


Can’t you hear that scratching

by SpaceBat (kuraikon)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Captivity, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Obsessive Behavior, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Punishment, Rating may go up, Recovery, Stalking, Tags to be added, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuraikon/pseuds/SpaceBat
Summary: “It’s from a fan! An admirer I seem to have enthralled in Oxenfurt. They say such delightful things about me and you know how easy I am to flatter.”Jaskier gains the attention of a increasingly dedicated fan, which is very flattering.Until it’s not.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 99
Kudos: 868





	1. There’s something at the door

**Author's Note:**

> 2/3 of my Witcher fics so far have included Jaskier being kidnapped... hmm. 
> 
> This has been in my head for ages! I know we have a fair few kidnapper!Jaskier fics but more please? Please more?

Oxenfurt was not Geralt’s favourite place, in all honesty. The work there was few and far between and the city itself was generally crowded with people, most of whom were on the higher side of society and would stare at Geralt as if he were a particularly exotic beast in a zoo. That or shit on their shoes and Geralt really didn’t know which pissed him off more. Still, he tended to visit the place rarely and could put up with the hustle and bustle of the streets for the availability of good food, soft beds and hot water.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called, waving over the steady stream of people who were also leaving the university’s gates.

The company, Geralt admitted to himself, pushing off the wall where he was keeping to himself and ignoring the eyes following him as people linked the name to the silver hair, was also a positive. 

Jaskier was chattering before the Witcher reached him, fully aware that the sensitive ears would already be picking up his words and didn’t seem to notice the gawping gazes of his schoolmates as he pushed a set of books in Geralt’s arms without asking. Geralt took them with a huff which Jaskier ignored as he searched in his bag for a collection of papers which he waved around as he talked excitedly, so comfortable in his environment that he didn’t look around as he started to walk.

“So it’s going well.” Geralt summarised as Jaskier took a deep breath, putting a guiding hand to the Bard’s back to shift his direction before he walked into a stall of cheeses. Jaskier let himself be handled and beamed up at Geralt.

“Incredibly.”

Geralt hummed his response. Usually after a winter apart, they would meet somewhere between Kaer Morhen and Oxenfurt to travel together for the majority of the well-weathered months but this year Jaskier had been requested to stay on longer than usual to write a paper. Normally the bard returned to his place of school to take and teach classes and would play in the town between these but clearly he had thrown himself into his commission if the books of research Geralt was carrying were anything to go by. Although it had only lengthened their time apart by just over two months, Geralt had found himself missing the bard and since they had parted with an unexpected shift in their friendship after their reconcile following the dragon hunt, the Witcher had been especially eager to rejoin their company.

“It’s going to be published, Geralt. Published! And they want me to write the forward for the book too.” Jaskier was practically glowing with pride but Geralt couldn’t help the twist of his stomach.

“You’ll be staying here then.”

Now Jaskier stopped, blinking his wide blue eyes up at Geralt who had to force himself not to shuffle under the scrutiny. “I’d rather not. I’ve been here too long for my twitchy feet already. Besides, the whole subject of the paper is being a travelling bard - it would be quite hypercritical to write about the pros and cons while safely tucked in Oxenfurt.” Calmly, Jaskier folded up his papers and tucked them back into his bag to hold out his arms for the books. “Unless you wish for me to not be your travel companion at this time?”

“Hmmm.” Geralt turned without handing the books over and headed towards Jaskier’s normal place of stay, leaving Jaskier to take that as his answer, which the bard did with a grin. 

-

“Sir,” a woman called as Geralt and Jaskier stepped in to what Geralt assumes was still called an inn, though it seemed more of a house that happened to have a few fine rooms to rent. “Another letter left for you.”

Jaskier bounded over to the woman, flooding her with compliments as he introduced Geralt, bowing deeply to her and raising her hand for him to kiss as he took the letter. The woman was clearly used to this as she laughed good naturedly and swatted at Jaskier playfully. Her face fell slightly when she looked at Geralt but he kept his distance and gave her a nod in greeting which she barely returned before smiling up at Jaskier.

“You’ll be leaving soon then? Break a ladies heart will you?”

The bard laughed. “My apologies, my dear. Duty calls and all that. You’ll have your fill of me for a day or so yet while I tie up loose ends but then you’ll have to await my return with no doubt bated breath.”

Geralt waited while the two chatted happily, painfully aware of how out of place he looked in his dark and dirty armour in such a clean and bright house, decorated in frills and tiny flowered patterns. Finally, Jaskier said his goodbyes and led Geralt up the stairs to his comfortable room which overlooked into the town. The bard began to dump his belongings around the room in his usual organised chaos, flicking a look at Geralt over his shoulder as he did so.

“I can probably be ready noon tomorrow if you need to get moving but if we could leave it to the morning after I’ll be able to sort things better. I assume Ciri is somewhere safe?”

Walking along the perimeter of the room, leaving the books on an empty chair and feeling for squeaky floorboards and weak spots in the walls, Geralt hummed in response, turning fast and catching the boot Jaskier threw his way as punishment for the non-answer.

“Are you listening to me?!” Geralt rolled his eyes at the pout on his friends face.

“How can I not, you know you’re voice carries.” He repressed a smile at the squawk Jaskier let out. “However long you need in fine, Ciri is with Yennefer - they’ll be meeting us at the gates in three days.”

“Oh. Fantastic. Thank you.” Geralt looked away from the soft look on Jaskier’s face and motioned to the letter the bard had left on the messy desk. 

“I assume that’s a demand from an angry father for you to marry whichever young lass you left swooning?”

Huffing, Jaskier took the letter and opened it delicately. “I recognise the handwriting actually and I’ll have you know this person has been writing to me all winter - a fan and secret admirer!” He brandished the letter in front of Geralt’s face as proof and the keen eyes of the Witcher caught such words as ‘indescribable’, ‘bewitching’ and ‘enchanting’ as the paper was waved in his face, the smell of mint wafting from it. The page, he saw as Jaskier held it still long enough to read it himself, wasn’t signed with a name but finished simply as ‘yours, always’ followed by a small infinity symbol.

“Your admirer is educated.” Geralt found himself commenting, snidely.

With a sniff, Jaskier folded the letter back up and placed it on a pile of correspondences, watching Geralt scowl at the letter. “They’ve said they’re from Oxenfurt, so of course they are.” The bard raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Witcher who tore his gaze from the paper quickly. “Interested in my admirer, are we?” He asked coolly. 

Geralt made a noise, almost a snort. “I’ve no reason to be.” He grunted, turning to finally remove the outer layers of his armour and missing the pout from the bard.

-

As expected, there was no work to be found for Geralt in Oxenfurt so instead the Witcher allowed himself the rare luxury of taking his time with his list of chores over the next few days. He rose earlier than Jaskier, even though the bard had actual work to be done, and completed his morning stretches while the sun rose and Jaskier began to mumble and shift in his bed, bemoaning the loss of his late lay ins. When Jaskier had been tempted from bed by breakfast and gone on his way to the university, Geralt would spend time with Roach whom Jaskier had put up in the best stable, brushing her down and cleaning her kit ready for their next journey. His own belongings received the same treatment, his armour and weapons being treated and sharpened at the blacksmith that Geralt had entrusted before and his clothes being mended at a local seamstress who was unwilling to take the Witcher’s business at first till he dropped Jaskier’s name into the conversation and was suddenly being not only allowed trade but at a discounted price too. Geralt wondered if the same would happen at the stalls in the street as he worked through restocking his supplies but didn’t bother trying his theory - not that Jaskier would mind but Geralt didn’t want to bring more attention to himself than needed and, in all honesty, Geralt was well aware that Jaskier had more than one reputation and could never tell if someone knowing of Jaskier was a good or a bad thing.

So instead Geralt kept to himself as much as possible in the stalls, seeking the vendors he needed expertly while avoiding those who’s wares looked suspicious or old. His herbs and ingredients were refilled easily enough and by buying in batches, with some added words of respect for the quality of the stock, Geralt found himself getting a good deal, something that was hard to come by in bigger markets and especially for Witchers. Empty bottles for new potions were bought along with papers and scrolls, inks and waxes and a slightly indulgent purchase of tags for potion bottles since Ciri was still learning the differences. With the young princess in mind, Geralt used some of Jaskier’s coin to buy her a book to make notes in since she was rapidly filling up her old one, and used his own money to buy her a new set of charcoal pencils. A stall was selling some more rare items of ingredients which Geralt had no use for but had seen Yennefer buying before so money was spent there too as although they had reconciled well enough, Geralt was still hoping to mend bridges a bit more. He knew both of them had wanted to come to the market of Oxenfurt, Ciri especially, so he splurged more than he intended to, picking up pastries to take to them as well as some new gloves and boots for Ciri which would be more comfortable than her winter ones come summer. He even found himself debating over a length of black velvet but eventually drew the line there. Still, next to the fabric stall a vendor was selling delicate trinkets and Geralt became drawn to the sturdy silver ones, already planning to pick up more salt so he could spend the evening enchanting them with protections. A feather with a purple stone inset for Yen, a lions head for Ciri of course and a wildflower for Jaskier. Hesitantly, he also purchased a wolf for himself, not that he needed the protection but it would give Ciri a chance to learn. 

His coin purse much lighter, Geralt dumped the purchases off in Jaskier’s room and was still organising them into his bags when Jaskier came back from his schooling. They spent the evening in a fancier tavern than Geralt was used to, listening to different bards taking the stage while Jaskier pointed out which were his students. After enough ale and many a request, Jaskier took to the stage himself for enjoyment rather than coin and had almost the entire bar up in dance and song while Geralt hid his smile behind his drink. Jaskier had an impressive habit of being joyful and comfortable in any situation but he was clearly the most at home in Oxenfurt, surrounded by carefree people who had the education to appreciate his music and carefully spun lyrics in ways that people on the road could not. The bard caught his eye and winked as he announced he would be playing a newly finished song about a little cub whose roar shook mountains as a parting gift before he left the city. The smile on Jaskier’s face as he began to play made Geralt feel content as as they walked back to their room later, the feeling tempted Geralt to bring up Jaskier’s confessions before they had parted for the winter. But since the bard had said nothing, Geralt followed suit. 

With no more buying needed, Geralt spend the final two days picking up his commissions and meeting Jaskier in the large library that people from outside the university were allowed to enter. Geralt was more than happy to rest and meditate while Jaskier flitted between books and scrolls but he could almost feel Vesemir’s disappointment so instead looked up the newer bestiaries for tips, blocking out Jaskier’s scratchy note taking and his humming and shuffling. 

One their last morning they woke too early for breakfast, but found that the keeper of their rooms had arranged for a meal to be taken with them. She pressed warm bread and cup of sweet porridge for both of them as she kissed Jaskier’s cheek goodbye and even smiled briefly at Geralt. Jaskier dropped to his knees to dramatically thank her so quickly that Geralt winced and had to hold himself back from yanking the bard back to his feet. The woman simply patted Jaskier’s cheek and ruffled his hair before pulling out an envelope from her pocket. 

“Almost forgot! A letter for you.” The smell of mint reached Geralt as Jaskier took the letter and used it to flourish his bow as he stood. 

Once Roach was tacked up, Geralt motioned at the letter tucked into Jaskier pocket. 

“Your admirer must know you’re leaving.”

“Well I haven’t been subtle about it,” Jaskier allowed, attaching his last bag to the saddle of a grey mare, dubbed Ladybug, he had bought over the winter before opening the letter to read as they walked the horses through the still empty streets. “Oh, they’re sad I’m leaving and will miss my lovely voice and even lovelier face.”

“They did not say that.”

“They did! Look!” And it was there in writing, so Geralt just huffed. “They hope I will stay safe on my travels with- oh my, they don’t seem to have much of an opinion on you, dear heart.” Jaskier grinned as he folded the letter up and tucked it into a bag. 

They walked in silence for a moment before Geralt glanced at Jaskier and repeated in a low voice.

“Dear heart?”

Jaskier slowed his pace to a stop, tilting his head at Geralt as the Witcher followed. “Should we have discussed this before? I know we’ve spent time apart but what I said before is still true. I know words are hard for you but I also think you care for me deeply and I-“

“I do.” Geralt interrupted. “Very much.” Jaskier smiled but Geralt sighed. “It’s not so simple, you know.”

Jaskier’s smile turned sad but didn’t fall. “I know,” he soothed, moving closer to Geralt. “Which is why I was going to let things settle before breaching the subject. We’ll have to talk. But despite what most think, I can be patient.”

The pair started off again towards the exit to the city, but before they reached the gates, Geralt angled himself to walk closer and gently take Jaskier’s hand.

-

Ciri let out a squeal of delight when she saw the pair walking up the dirt track to the tree Geralt had marked as their meeting point and was running towards them so fast that Yennefer had no time to grab her hand and settled for calling after her.

“You should let men come running to you, little one.” She called, humour in her voice as Jaskier dropped his belongings to catch Ciri as the princess leapt into his arms. He spun her around, her skirts dancing around her as they began talking at the same time, each asking questions and giving answers in a muddle of a conversation that Geralt didn’t bother trying to keep up with. 

“Men won’t be running to her if I have any say in it.” He muttered as he bent slightly to greet Ciri, who didn’t stop chattering to Jaskier as she stood on her tiptoes to press her forehead to Geralt’s in fondness. 

Yennefer waited while they walked towards her, shaking her head. “Then I shall insist you have no say.” 

For the day, after Geralt gifted his finds to the witch and princess, they travelled together and time seemed to speed away. Jaskier quizzed Ciri on her training, delighted by each achievement she boasted and the failures she admitted both, encouraging her to be proud of her efforts non the less in a way neither Geralt or Yennefer had been able to. He cajoled stories out of Yennefer eventually, bating her into joining the conversation with practiced ease and grinning as they sniped at each other half-heartedly. As they bedded down at camp for the night and Yennefer began to collect her things, he asked after the other Witchers to Ciri, even though Geralt had been quizzed a day previously, to let the witch and Witcher talk quietly. 

Eventually Ciri noticed Yennefer not setting out her bed and frowned, stopping her story of how Lambert had allegedly locked a maiden back into her tower after rescuing her as she was too annoying.

“You’re leaving?”

Yennefer cooed at the princess, kneeling to tuck blonde hair behind her ears. “Sorry, little one, I have strayed from duties for long enough. I will meet up with you soon.”

The girl continued to pout but allowed goodbyes to be said, clinging to Yennefer’s middle as Geralt awkwardly pressed something into Yennefer’s hand.

Raising an eyebrow, the witch held up her silver trinket, watching the gem glitter in the firelight. “A protection talisman, Geralt? How quaint.” Still, she smiled shyly and dutifully attached the feather to her belt. At Ciri’s questions, Yennefer explained. “It’s not a shield, nor quiet even a ward. It’s more of a soft hum of energy, like a light, but instead of pushing away darkness it pushes away bad auras. They can be usefully attached to their person, if done correctly.” She dipped her head to Geralt. “Yours is acceptable.” She allowed.

Geralt rolled his eyes and handed Ciri’s hers, who ooh’d and ahh’d appreciatively and had Yennefer attach hers to her hip pouch, and then Jaskier his, who smiled coyly. 

“Thank you, Witcher.” He said with a purr to his voice, leaning up to press a kiss to Geralt’s cheek and then turn sharply away, pretending not to her Ciri’s squeak.

The young girl turned to Yennefer who was struggling to school her features into indifference as she watched Geralt splutter. “You can’t leave me now - they were ridiculous when pining, they’ll be utterly unbearable know they’ve sorted themselves out.”

-

Jaskier ended up attaching his talisman to a small chain bracelet he had received from a friend that winter and happily let it jingle as he played while they travelled. He caught Geralt watching it occasionally, especially when the bard played at camp rather than at a tavern, which made Jaskier smile widely and wink when he caught Geralt’s eye. For the first few weeks of travel, the trio were happy to camp every night - the weather was warm and they had each spent the last week or more at an inn so could forgo the luxury of a bed for a while to save money. As they travelled away from the safety of the Oxenfurt’s shadow and into more rural areas, Geralt found work become more challenging. There was enough of it, the contracts he had taken since leaving Oxenfurt were small beasts causing fuss rather than any actual danger to human life. Whispers reached the group of a creature stalking women in a farm town a tenday or so away, so Geralt immediately turned a Ciri-carrying-Roach to head towards the claimed sightings, Jaskier obediently following.

By the time they reached the town, the stalkings had turned into killings, gruesome murders where the bodies of the women were left outside their houses almost entirely eaten. The women seemed to be followed for a few days, dying followed and animal carcasses left as presents before being taken and returned a day or so later. Geralt examined a body with no reaction, while Ciri and Jaskier watched on, the former with curiosity and the latter with disgust. 

“A devourer,” Geralt decided as they ordered food at an inn, having set up in a room. “Called a night witch,” he added to Ciri who nodded into her stew. “Nasty things but this one seems particularly vicious - they usually hunt in packs but this reminds me of a lone one that had gone crazed with jealousy of the popular towns women. It left gifts too.” He stopped the story at the green face of a man a table away and waved a hand in dismissal. “Anyway, it’s not targeted anyone else so we’ll have to wait while I find its hide or it shows itself.”

They ended up in the town for almost five nights while Geralt hunted, Jaskier making a good amount of money from singing at the towns prosperous bar while Ciri worked diligently on Geralt’s charm. Eventually Geralt came back one night with the head of what looked like an ugly, badly mutated woman, long tongue trailing out her mouth and eyes wide and blood red on her pale face. There was a long pause as the inn patrons stared at the dirty and blooded Witcher, Jaskier halting mid-note. Then the barman cheered in delight, as his grown daughter was being left the gifts now and the rest of the room erupted into yells and applause. With a sigh of relief, Jaskier started up a jaunty tune which Ciri clapped happily along to while Geralt got himself cleaned up enough to accept the drinks that where pushed his way.

The next morning the barkeep tipped Geralt on their way out of town, though he knew the Witcher had already been paid handsomely by the farmer who owned most of the lands. 

“Oh, and this was left for you the other night, master bard, my apologies for the late delivery-“

Jaskier took the letter handed to him and smiled. “You had a lot to worry about, please don’t apologise.”

Geralt wrinkled his nose as they walked away from the town, Ciri waving back at the man as she took Ladybug’s reigns from Jaskier so he could open his letter and blink down at it in surprise

“How the hell did they get a letter to you all the way out here?” The Witcher grunted.

Jaskier shrugged. “We’ve been there a few days and news about you seems to travel fast, I suppose they must have caught wind and assumed where you’d be, I’d be.”

“I guess.”

“Who’s it from? Why doesn’t Geralt like them?” Ciri asked, standing on her toes in an attempt to read the letter.

“Geralt doesn’t like many people,” Jaskier teased, voice light. “It’s from a fan! An admirer I seemed to have enthralled in Oxenfurt. They say such delightful things about me and you know how easy I am to flatter.” 

Laughing, Ciri eyed Geralt as she spoke. “And what delightful things do they say now?”

Jaskier waved his hand. “Oh the usual, how they miss my enchanting voice and beguiling words, how Oxenfurt is dreary without my face to shine light to the town.”

Geralt huffed and Ciri clicked her tongue at him. “Perhaps Geralt is jealous?”

Jaskier’s head snapped to the Witcher, face breaking into a delighted smile at the tease. Immediately, Geralt frowned and shook his head and began to speak at the same time as the bard.

“Geralt?!”

“Don’t be daft, cub.”

“Geralt, are you?”

“It’s just weird that the letter found him is all.”

“It’s a normal feeling, dear heart, don’t be ashamed.”

“All the way out here, we had no plans to come this way, even.”

“I’m sure we can put your mind at ease if we talk it out.”

“And mail from Oxenfurt would take days to get here.”

“Jealousy can be a hard emotion to overcome, it’s alright.”

“I’m not jealous!”

-

The next two months sailed by smoothly, as smoothly as can be for a party with a Witcher leading them. Ciri’s training coming on leaps and bounds in the wilderness and a lucky few hunts in succession keeping them with more coin than usual. Message came for Jaskier to invite him to play at a masquerade ball in Vizima which he readily accepted and then sat back as Geralt and Ciri argued about whether they could join him or not. Geralt fighting the corner of no with such logics as ‘you’re too easily recognised’ and ‘masquerading with nobles will get you stabbed, trust me’ while Ciri defended her corner of yes with the less rational opinions of ‘but I want to!’ and ‘please Geralt!’. 

Ciri won and Geralt defended it was purely because Yennefer then sent word that she would be there and this meant Ciri could be glamoured.

Jaskier had his doubts that Geralt was going to hold out for long once Ciri bought out the doe-eyes but that was an opinion he was keeping to himself.

They arrived and met Yennefer with days to spare much to Ciri’s delight - she hadn’t set foot in a busy city market since Cintra and had plenty of coin to spend. Yennefer was happy to spend the time with her, tutting over the hair Jaskier had carefully cut to around her chin to keep it out of her face while training and demanding to take the time they had to teach Ciri more magic. Leaving Ciri in charge of mask choices, this gave Jaskier plenty of time to practice before the ball.

Or not, he thought as Geralt pulled him in for another sweet kiss as they sat curled on an armchair together, Jaskier half on the Witcher’s lap. Not liking to be separate from Ciri for any length of time, when they did stay at an inn they requested a single room and so had very limited time alone together. Which both were happy to make up for while Ciri was with Yennefer, it seemed, as Jaskier shifted to straddle Geralt and the Witcher smoothly curled an arm round Jaskier’s waist while the other slipped up the bards shirt. They knew each other well, so even though this shift in their relationship was new they seemed to slide into it naturally and with little awkwardness. Geralt’s hands stopped on Jaskier’s skin and the bard felt him frown into the kiss.

“What-“ A knock on the door interrupted him and Jaskier laughed at Geralt’s huff of annoyance when he realised that Geralt had heard the person coming.

“Seriously?” The Witcher muttered as Jaskier stood to release the man, smoothing down his clothes as he did.

“I should be getting ready anyway.” Jaskier said, tone apologetic but face fighting a smile as Geralt stood and strode over to the door with a grunt. 

Padding on socked feet to the desk in the room, Jaskier spread his music sheets across the wood and hummed, picking out the songs to start and finish with as those were the easiest to decide on - the host of the ball was known for his love of fast paced dances so that would be a good way to open his performance. And something soft and sweet as the last song, to wind down the night. 

Still in thought, Jaskier jumped slightly as Geralt appeared next to him to drop a letter on his song sheets, followed by a small bunch of colourful flowers. The writing was immediately familiar, as was the wrinkle of Geralt’s nose.

“They’re very dedicated.” Jaskier commented as he took the flowers and sniffed at them - they were surprisingly unscented but had a vague smell of mint. 

“Outstaying their welcome, I would say.” Geralt mumbled as he went to his unopened bags to dig in his packs.

Jaskier bit down a grin, Ciri’s teasing words from before coming back to him. Opening the letter, he hummed in response as he read. “Oh!” Geralt grunted, which Jaskier took as encouragement to continue. “The flowers are a congratulations for the ball performance. And my admirer hopes to reach Vizima in time to attend the party.”

“Hm. Maybe they can show their face to you then, instead of stalking from the shadows.”

-

Though no admirer stepped forth, Jaskier was in high spirits after the ball. The party went smoothly with only a few dramatics from drunken lords arguing over properties or partners and ladies getting less loud and physical in their altercations but no less head turning as they spat and sniped at each other. Jaskier’s set was well received though and he gathered a lot of attention from possible future clients. Ciri looked more relaxed than Geralt had seen her in ages, glammored as a dark haired girl with a striking match to Yennefer, able to eat and dance to her hearts content - she attempted once to get Geralt to dance with her but he managed to dig his feet in till she gave up and danced with Jaskier instead when he took a break. The ball had Geralt on edge, with the masked people swanning around and too many perfumes and foods muting his sense of smell, and he found himself rounding the perimeter of the room several times while watching Ciri, Jaskier and Yennefer carefully. Whenever someone spoke to Ciri, Geralt was immediately within ear range to listen to them coo over her dress but thankfully do much else. Yennefer would catch on and no doubt break his fingers if he tried with her, though he watched the many men and several women who were brave enough to approach the witch, all flirtatious and rightfully awed their body language. Harder still was keeping track of the groups of people who went up to swoon over Jaskier, it seemed that the entire guest and staff list took the time to greet, thank and fawn over the bard and some of them twice. And where Ciri and Yennefer would be cool and subtle with the people conversing with them, Jaskier greeted all as if old friends, bright and sunny with his demeanour and affections.

Geralt felt much better when Yennefer and Ciri had been deposited in their room - though he had to fight for the ability to see them to their door and heard Yen scold him as he waited to hear the door lock and feel her place her wards. Returning to his and Jaskier’s room across the hall, he was welcomed with an armful of half dressed bard, chattering away excitedly with only a slight lowness in his voice showing how the nights efforts had pushed him. Letting Jaskier talk and offering small hums when the bard paused for breath, Geralt encouraged Jaskier to finish changing for bed, throwing the expensive clothes over a chair and watching, amused, as Jaskier squawked and began folding the clothes. Jaskier didn’t let the Witcher give his own clothes the chair treatment, instead held his hands out as Geralt changed for bed, folding the items and placing them with his own. Getting into his bed, Geralt watched Jaskier finish his nightly routine, silent as the man chattered away as he was sure that the stream of talk would be same whether he was there or not.

Eventually Jaskier finished and climbed into bed - Geralt blinked as Jaskier got into his bed rather than the one across the room. They had shared beds and bedrolls before but the room they had been given came with two and they had been using both while in Vizima, revelling in the luxury. Jaskier smoothed the covers down and raised an eyebrow to Geralt in challenge. With a tilt of his head, Geralt conceded, and the two settled into the soft mattress together, Jaskier pushing into Geralt’s personal space and Geralt eventually settling an arm around the bard.

-

A letter slipped under the door as they slept, Geralt’s nose twitching in his sleep as he caught the faint waft of mint in the air.

-


	2. There’s this noise I cannot shake

-

Jaskier was rudely awakened the next morning by Geralt shaking his shoulders; groaning, the bard tried to swot the man-handler away while pulling the blanket over his head but felt resistance tugging the covers further off his body. Whining at the cold air reaching him, Jaskier cracked his eyes open to glare at the Witcher standing over him. The fact that Jaskier hadn’t felt Geralt get up out of bed earlier wasn’t surprising but the violent wake up and the frown Geralt wore was.

“Why are you scowling so early in the morning?” He moaned, clinging to his pillow. “I doubt you were woken in such a manor. In fact, I bet you had a delightful awakening - a warm comfortable bed around you, the sunlight just streaming in, a handsome partner sleeping peacefully next to you...”

“You were snoring.”

Jaskier sat up with a gasp, placing a hand to his chest dramatically. “How dare you! I don’t snore!”

The tension left Geralt’s shoulders slightly but his frown was still tight. “We’ll ask Ciri later. Did you tell anyone what room you were in?”

“What?” The non-sequitur threw Jaskier. “No? I don’t think so. What’s going on?”

Geralt lifted a letter with an increasingly common hand writing. “This was under our door. The keeper says they didn’t bring it up.”

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier held his hand out for the letter which was handed over obediently. “Letters have been arriving since we got here.”

“Through the inn staff,” Geralt argued as Jaskier opened the letter. “Who are meant to know which rooms the guests are in - not slipped under the door in the night by someone off the street.”

Shrugging, Jaskier turned his attention to the letter. “Maybe they asked someone who works here to put it under?” His eyes flicked over the words and his eyebrows rose before he could school hia face to not show his surprise.

Unsurprisingly, Geralt caught the shift. “What.” His voice was low and when Jaskier flicked his gaze up to the Witcher, he saw Geralt’s eyes were narrowed in on the paper, as if he could read through the parchment. 

“It’s just a bit more forward than some of the others.” He tried for nonchalance but gave in with Geralt’s grunt and motion to continue. “They say they saw my performance and were happy to see me in the flesh again. They say it was a spell binding recital and that I outdid myself. They say...”

Another grunt. “Jaskier.”

The bard sighed. “ _I’m saddened I couldn’t come to you,_ ” Jaskier read aloud, “ _but one day I will be able to shower you in the appreciation you deserve and you will never be without my adoration. You push yourself hard but soon, soon you won’t have to travel those unfavourable roads with unfavourable company, soon I will keep you a happy song bird, pampered beyond belief and wanting for nothing._ ” Lowering the letter, Jaskier shook his head at the stony look on Geralt’s face. “It’s definitely bolder than their other letters but I’m sure they don’t mean it to come across so...” Jaskier waved his hand to find the word. “Familiar?”

“Aggressive.” Geralt suggested.

“Daring.” Jaskier said, firmly. “It’s a letter, Geralt. I’ve had much raunchier suggestions penned to me in my time. Since they never give me an address to return the correspondence, they’ll bore eventually. They always do.

-

Despite Jaskier’s confidence, he found that the letters gained frequency in arrival and brazenness in contents. A few weeks after they left Vizima, they stayed at a backend town, barely a town, really, for Geralt to take a contract on a fledgling vampire. Yet two days into their stay at the dirty inn, the barman tossed Jaskier a letter while he and Ciri were having what passed as breakfast without a word, not even a response to Jaskier’s thanks. Jaskier kept a cool face on while opening the letter but Ciri raised an unimpressed eyebrow which Jaskier rolled his eyes at.

“What a wonderful mimic of our dear Witcher you are, little cub.” Ciri broke her serious face to laugh. “Eat your.... porridge.”

Sticking her tongue out, Ciri nudged the slop in her bowl with her spoon - which Jaskier had carefully cleaned himself before allowing the princess to put in her mouth. “Is that what it’s meant to be,” she mumbled, taking a brave bite and shrugging at the inoffensive, if bland, taste. “Geralt hates those letters.” 

Jaskier smiled at her. “I know. But they’re doing no harm, he’s just protective.” And if Jaskier enjoyed that protective streak, that wasn’t a conversation for the breakfast table. Stirring his own grey mess, Jaskier flicked his eyes over the letter, reading the comparison the writer made between the blue of the sea they had woken up to and Jaskier’s own bright eyes - which the writer looked forward to seeing as he awoke, soon, the letter promised. Jaskier swallowed as he read the rest, the writer hoping he was keeping up his health and staying comfortable in such a dismal inn. Folding the letter back up, Jaskier tapped into the table and tried to breathe deeply, wondering how he was going to stomach his breakfast with the knot growing there. 

“Perhaps,” he started, “we shouldn’t tell Geralt about this letter just yet. Vampires are hard on him; you know he dislikes killing humanoids.”

Ciri tilted her head. “You want to lie to Geralt?”

With a wince, Jaskier shook his head. “No, no, of course not. I’ll tell him once he’s rested and once we’ve moved on from these, ah, humble lodgings.”

The training Witcher eyed Jaskier for a long moment before conceding with a nod before asking if the innkeeper had changed his mind on paying Jaskier to play while they were here.

Another letter arrived in the day they left, wishing Jaskier well and hoping he would find more suitable accommodation.

-

The next town they stopped to stay in was a well off trade town just a week later - they hadn’t planned to stay, seeing as the notice that caught Geralt’s eye was for a drowner which he didn’t really need a full night for, but after investigating, one drowner turned out to be group of them. The mayor of the town quickly raised the reward and offered to put the trio up during their stay at his expense.

“The drowner is affecting their trade route.” Geralt mentioned as they settled into a two-bed room. The mayor had offered two rooms at the inn he suggested they stay at, but with no reason to trust the townspeople after the misleading notice, Geralt insisted they stay together. With Geralt and Ciri going on their hunt at over the next few nights and Jaskier staying in his normal sleeping routines, it wouldn’t be an issue even if Geralt and Jaskier weren’t sharing a bed pretty much all the time now. While Ciri napped for her long night ahead and Geralt began prepping their weapons, Jaskier took the chance to wonder around the town and make arrangements for meals and baths for the next few days, making sure to have a bath ready for the Witchers’ returns in the morning. The innkeeper eagerly accepted his offer to perform in the evenings while they were there, clearly hoping live music would encourage people to not worry so much about their trade routes and spend some happy times in his bar. 

So when Ciri and Geralt got ready that evening to head out, Jaskier was already downstairs, settling himself into a good position and chattering with the patrons. He paused when his travel companions made their appearance, Ciri heavily cloaked up, and made his excuses to follow them out of the tavern. In relative privacy, Jaskier fussed over the princess, who preened at the attention, and the Witcher, who allowed it begrudgingly. Ciri listed off the weapons, potions and provisions they had at his request while Geralt rolled his eyes when Jaskier wondered aloud if they should take extra clothes for when they inevitably get soaked through. 

“And you’re sure you only need Roach? You can take Ladybug too if you need, she’s not as used to the harshness as Roach is but she’s fast enough.”

“We won’t need to use Roach,” Geralt said, not for the first time. “But she can bear us both and get us safe faster than your show horse.”

Jaskier stuck his tongue out at Geralt whole he tightened the fastening on Ciri’s cloak, shifting her hood to plant a kiss to her blonde head. “Stay safe.” He said, moving to Geralt and leaning up to take a chaste goodbye kiss from the Witcher, ignoring Ciri’s wrinkled nose at the act in front of her.

“We’ll do our job, you do yours.” Geralt said and Jaskier laughed.

“Let’s see who brings home the most coin, hm?”

The crowd took a while to warm up, visibly tense in the early evening after Geralt and Ciri had left, but soothed easily and quickly as Jaskier sung of Geralt’s pervious wins, switching between those and some overly happy tunes of love and life which had the crowd growing and tapping along. As the night grew late, Jaskier tried a fast paced tune with some dirty lyrics and was pleased when the tavern laughed along, even if some of them were red-faced during it. He finished with Toss A Coin, at the request of a pretty barmaid, and had most of the tavern singing with him and tipping well. Downing an ale at the bar after, the barman paid him handsomely and offered the work for tomorrow night as well, which Jaskier took happily. While the bar cleared out, Jaskier chatted to the staff, sipping at some better tasting wine and listening to their stories of the town. It was a happy place, Jaskier learned, and unused to the threats of monsters. 

Jaskier woke up early to wait for Geralt and Ciri, fine-tuning a new song and debating what to play that night when he noticed something by his door. Walking over, he was surprised to see another letter had been pushed under, seeing as they had only arrived yesterday. Unlocking the door, Jaskier opened it and peered down the empty halls, not sure what he was expecting as he closed the door again.

The message this time was short and Jaskier immediately hid the note in his bag with the previous ones.

_’You played wonderfully last night.’_

-

Jaskier entered Maribor alone, separating from Geralt and Ciri at the base of the mountains and heading to the own alone while they hunted a sizeable pack of Wyverns that were causing mischief in the farms surrounding the cliffs. Normally Jaskier would go with them but neither he nor Ladybug would be suited for keeping up with the climb and they were running low on provisions enough that it made more sense for Jaskier to travel to Maribor and meet his hunters there in a few days time. The bard took his time in getting to the town, taking a winding road and sharp turns with an old unused cape around him, excusing his actions by the closeness to Cintra and the rapidly cooling weather. Ladybug obediently rode on, snorting when Jaskier petted her and apologised for the track. Still, they arrived as the sun was setting a day after leaving Geralt and Ciri, and Jaskier was pleased that the town was closing down for the night, no one paying attention to him as he chose an inn at random and set Ladybug into a stable for the night. The inn was quiet and quaint, glowing homely with candles and easing the tension from Jaskier as he sat and waited for a room to be ready. When the barmaid appeared with his key, she bought a plate of food with her.

“How kind! I’m afraid I didn’t order anything.”

The girl smiled. “Your are Jaskier, right? The bard? With the coin song?” She didn’t notice the stiffness of Jaskier’s nod, pulling a letter from her pocket and setting it down next to Jaskier’s hand, who pulled himself away sharply. “You’re popular around here, I knew I recognised you. We were instructed to have food and a hot bath drawn when you arrive. Please, enjoy your stay.”

Jaskier looked around the bar but saw no one he recognised, nor anyone watching him. He had found two other letters waiting for him at different no-named villages, each seemingly gentle in their words but with the occasional odd phrase or phrasing which set Jaskier on edge - the wording taking on a possessive tone. Taking a deep breath, he tore the letter open, taking in the familiar hand as he read how the writer had been worried about Jaskier travelling alone, so they hoped to comfort him with good food and a warm bath, as they knew Jaskier would appreciate them. Shoving the letter into his bag, Jaskier snatched the key from the table and hastily left the tavern, taking the stairs two or three at a time as he made his way to his room. The door was locked behind him and before anything else, Jaskier checked the windows and under the bed. Satisfied, Jaskier changed into comfortable clothes for bed and curled into his covers, keeping the candles lit all night and testily watching the steam rise from the bath across the room till sleep took him.

-

An old acquaintance of Geralt’s wrote for assistance with a set of sirens, so the trio made their way towards Loc Muinne, travelling as much as possible to cut time down and sleeping in the wild which, for once, Jaskier didn’t complain about. He didn’t complain about anything, in fact, happy to keep moving across the fields they were using as a short cut rather than adding time to their journey and using the roads around them. This clearly caught Geralt’s attention as he shifted which side he lead Roach on to walk side by side with Jaskier.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Jaskier parroted back, eyes wide. “Nothing, nothing at all. The sun is still shining, the flowers are still out-“

“We haven’t stopped at a town in a tenday and normally you’d be whining your ass off about a real bed.” Geralt cut in. “You haven’t touched your lute all day. What is it?”

Jaskier hesitated, twisting Ladybug’s reigns around his hands. “It’s nothing, I’m sure. It’s just...”

At Jaskier’s obvious worry, Geralt took a deep breath in, stopping short at a familiar smell. With narrowed eyes, the Witcher stopped Roach and leaned into Jaskier’s space, sniffing carefully and zoning in on the bards satchel. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier stopped Ladybug and fidgeted before sighing and pulling open his bag to reveal the letters and expose the minty smell that had stopped Geralt short. For a long moment, the bard and Witcher stared at each other, both unhappy. Then.

“Ciri,” Geralt barked, not taking his eyes of Jaskier, “take Roach for some of that greener grass ahead.”

The girl took the reigns and hesitated, looking between the two, before turning and walking ahead of them.

“Don’t go too far, stay where we can see you!” Jaskier called after, anxious to see her wondering alone.

“Jaskier...”

Holding his hands up, Jaskier began to talk. “I know, okay, I know. I should have told you. But you were getting so worried and it was making me uneasy! I just wanted to ignore the changes in them, it was fine before but now...” He pulled the letters out and showed them to Geralt, explaining when each one arrived and the odd circumstances.

Yellow eyes danced across the words quickly, Geralt getting visibly more worked up as the story unfolded. 

“For fucks sake, Jask.” The Witcher scrunched up the letters and yanked at Jaskier’s bag to put them back in. “Why don’t you understand how dangerous this is? You’ve been travelling with me for years, you know that some of the worst monsters I’ve faced have been people.”

Jaskier shifted into his feet, smell sour with unhappiness. “Hindsight is a marvellous thing,” he muttered, then stepped forwards to grasp at Geralt’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be some big secret, it just happened. And I do get it, I’ve seen how horrid people can be.” Ducking his head, Jaskier caught Geralt’s eye and squeezed his hand. “Please, dear heart. Forgive me.”

With a put upon sigh, Geralt slung an arm around Jaskier’s neck and pulled the bard in against him, pressing a kiss to his head. “You’re a brat.” He grumbled, feeling Jaskier laugh against his chest and relax into the embrace. “You still smell worried.”

“I feel better now.” Was the only answer he received and Geralt grunted in reply.

“Geralt! Jaskier!” The two broke apart, immediately on edge as Ciri called out to them, Geralt reaching for his swords. Ciri looked fine, if anxious, as she waved them over to the fence they were needing to cross. Geralt reached the princess first, eyed flying over her for injuries and hand pushing her stray curls from her face, while Jaskier appeared a second later with Ladybug trailing along. For a moment, Jaskier couldn’t see what had Ciri so concerned, the fence was intact and there seemed to be no signs of disruption or danger; even though Geralt was tense, Roach was relaxed and munching at grass so Jaskier knew there were no creatures near by. 

Then the wind made the square of white tied to the fence flap and when Jaskier reached for the letter, he already knew it had his name on it.

-

Arriving at the town near Loc Muinne put Jaskier more on edge. Normally a settlement of people was where the bard thrived, but now all he wanted was to keep moving, despite the sharp winds and cold nights. Winter coming had Jaskier stressed and unable to sleep, wondering how long he could put off going back to Oxenfurt. And he knew his fretting was obvious to not only Geralt but Ciri too, as the pair would watch him twitch at sudden noises and stay up writing notes long into the night. The letter on the field had been a poem, soft and eerie in its vaguely threatening words and Jaskier had been trying to deconstruct it in a slim hope of recognising one of his fellow artists. Whoever was leaving the notes, Jaskier couldn’t pick them out by that work alone.

Despite how much Jaskier wanted nothing more than to sink into a soft bed, he dutifully followed Geralt and Ciri around as they met up with Geralt’s friend, Aryan, who tried to talk money with Geralt while the Witcher stubbornly waved him off.

Frowning, Aryan peered at Geralt’s companions. “The bard I recognise, though he looks like you should be taking better care of him, Geralt! Who’s the girl?”

Jaskier had to refrain from stepping in front of Ciri and risk drawing more attention to her as Geralt shrugged coolly.

“Fiona is a trainee of Yennefer of Vengerberg; I owe the witch a favour and travelling with the girl was better than owing Yen a debt.” The man nodded knowingly. “Jaskier took ill on our way over, is there a inn you’d call safe he can stay in?”

Eager to pay Geralt for his help, Aryan took them to his keep where he promised they would be treated like lords and protected. Geralt assessed several rooms, much to Aryan’s amusement, and eventually requested the one with a smaller bedroom attached, perfect for keeping Ciri within arms reach while giving her a feeling of privacy for once.

For two days Jaskier saw Geralt and Ciri mostly in passing as the two dropped back into the village at random times for food and rest, while Jaskier kept himself as busy as possible, fixing the repairable clothing and items between the three of them, creating the potions of Geralt’s he was able to as well as his own salves and salts, restocking their provisions and giving his lute a complete work up. Finally the heroes returned, dripping water and looking like spitting wet cats, but victorious. Aryan begged to let him throw a celebration right away but with Ciri beginning to shake in her boots, Geralt firmly refused for the night and talked the man into sorting them a hearty breakfast instead.

When Ciri was tucked in bed, warm and dry and already snoring softly, Geralt reheated the bath and slipped inside with a hiss, the hot water stinging the claw marks on his back. Jaskier tutted gently from where he had been placing the sodden clothes near the fire and wondered over, threading a hand through Geralt’s wet hair to tilt the man’s head back, Jaskier taking the opportunity to press a kiss to his forehead. Humming, Jaskier began to wash Geralt hair, untangling the silver locks with his fingers and digging hard into the Witcher’s scalp as he massaged the soap in to be rewarded with a groan of pleasure. Rinsed and repeated, something Jaskier knew Geralt didn’t do when the bars wasn’t there to do it for him, Jaskier used a second cloth and soap to scrub the Witcher’s back while Geralt took care of his front, carefully cleaning the new wounds and checking each marks depth and jagged edges. Happy no stitches would be needed, Jaskier set a pot of salve at the side of the bed for when Geralt was dry and returned to sit at the edge of the bath and stroke at Geralt’s forehead to soothe the furrowed brow. 

“How was Ciri?”

Geralt sighed and shifted closer, curing a wet arm around the bards waist and ignoring the small sound of displeasure as he rested his damp forehead to Jaskier’s hip. “Good,” he grunted, and then continued at Jaskier’s demanding pat, “she’s doing good. I just don’t want to fail her. This training. It’s life or death.”

“I know.” Jaskier cooed, curling his hand around Geralt’s neck. “But she couldn’t ask for better teachers - you and the other Witchers and, don’t tell her I said this, but Yennefer too.” Geralt rolled his head to have his cheek leaning against Jaskier’s thigh, meaning he could look up at the bard and see the sunny smile being shot down at him. “She’ll be fine. At least,” he changed his tone from soft to teasing, “she has me to teach her people skills because fuck knows you lot are useless.”

Geralt huffed and then, with no warning, yanked Jaskier backwards till the bard fell into his lap, and the bath, with a splash that made water spill over the edge of the bath. Laughing, Geralt watched with a smug face as Jaskier spluttered and swore.

“Oh you beast! You absolute shit!” He ranted, voice high. “These are nice pants and I was planning on wearing them tomorrow!” Slapping a now wet hand to Geralt’s chest, Jaskier caused move water to fly out the bath. 

“Well, perhaps I prefer you without them.” Geralt suggested.

Jaskier looked at the Witcher with a flat face. “While this was a good strategy to get me out of these pants, dear heart,” the bard said, keeping his tone unamused, “it was not so well planned to get _into_ them.”

Curling a hand around Jaskier’s waist, Geralt tugged the bard closer, making the man grab at his shoulders to steady himself in the slippery water. “I don’t know, I think I could tempt you.”

Curling his lips into a smirk, Jaskier laughed. “Oh please, tempt away.”

-

The next morning Jaskier woke up early to his demanding bladder. With Geralt shirtless at his side, laying on his stomach with one arm thrown across Jaskier - and the other no doubt under his pillow with the hand curled around a dagger - who was tucked into the Witcher’s warm body, Jaskier was loathe to leave the soft bed. Still he untangled himself from Geralt, who grunted in question but was easily soothed with a kiss and a murmur of being right back. The room they were in had no toilet chamber of their own so Jaskier pulled on Geralt’s shirt that had been left drying and hummed as he padded out down the hall, shivering at the cool air outside their warm room. The walls were bare brick so while they kept warmth well enough, the chill seeped in through the night and so the mornings were bitterly cold in the keep. Jaskier checked up and the down the hall and knocked on the door before entering, happy not to have to wait for the privilege of relieving himself, it being much earlier than usual for people in this area of the keep to be staring their day. 

His humming stopped dead as he re-entered the hall, frozen mid-step. Pinned to the wall opposite the toilet was a letter with his name on it, a letter Jaskier was sure wasn’t there before he went into the room. Forcing his eyes from the letter, Jaskier looked down both lengths of the hall, every where as silent and still as before with no clue of disruption so matter how hard Jaskier listened. Swallowing, Jaskier shut the door behind him and snatched the letter and, before he could talk himself out of it, ripped it open.

The handwriting was familiar, expected by now, but messier than Jaskier was used to seeing, almost rushed. And this seemed the match the mindset of the writer as the sentences that were usually so composed and careful seemed to trip over themselves, the writer flipping from emotion to emotion halfway through a trail of thought. The person was upset for most the letter but then suddenly trying to mollify Jaskier and then becoming presumptuous and promising. Breathing hard, Jaskier realised something that had been obvious all along.

The writer was watching him.

Jaskier’s feet were moving before he gave conscious thought, running down the hall back to his room and throwing himself through the door, turning to close it sharply and slide the locks across. By the time he turned round, Geralt had gone from dozing to on edge, probably not just from the loud entrance but from Jaskier’s fear-tinged smell and his thudding heart and when Jaskier shot across the room to pull the curtains across the window, Geralt was out of bed. Dimly, Jaskier registered Geralt’s voice, low and urgent, but his brain wasn’t catching the words, focusing on pulling a set of clothes out fit for travel. 

“I have to go,” he said, cutting off whatever Geralt was saying and making the Witcher snap his mouth shut in surprise. Shoving the letter into Geralt’s hands, Jaskier roughly began to dress himself. “Now. I have to go now.”

Reading the letter and narrowing his eyes at the words, Geralt grabbed at one of Jaskier’s hands with his own, stopping the bard from tying his pants. “This is a step up.” The Witcher said calmly. “Why do you need to go? Go where?”

Where doesn’t matter.” Jaskier shot back, snatching the letter. “ _Don’t debase yourself to him, my love, how could you? I know you have needs but I can’t allow you to be his whore. You won’t, I won’t let you! It’s alright, I forgive you. I’m glad he has so far refused to try and take you from me fully - the fool, he doesn’t know what he’s been offered. Your face was that of indescribable beauty last night, if only I could erase him touching you from the image of you in such pleasure. He will dirty you if you’re not careful, my little bird. Just wait, wait for me._ ” Jaskier choked as he stopped talking, throwing the letter to the bed and finishing his ties before tucking his shirt in. “It’s too much. I have to leave.”

“Ciri!” Keeping his eyes on Jaskier’s flushed faced Geralt called out and heard the girl immediately rolling out of bed. A second later the door to her room opened and she peered out, sword ready, relaxing when she took in the room with just Geralt and Jaskier. “Get dressed, we’re leaving.” 

Raising her eyebrows, Ciri’s eyes darted between the stern face of Geralt and the upset one of Jaskier. “Alright.” She said, giving them a concerned look over her shoulder as she went back into her room and shut the door to get ready and missing the way Jaskier shook his head.

“I’m going alone, Geralt.” At the Witcher’s scoff, Jaskier frowned and stamped his foot. “I am! Don’t you get it, they’re watching me.”

“I get that, Jask.”

“They’re watching you!”

“A boring pastime.”

“Geralt, they’re watching Ciri.”

At this Geralt paused, eyebrows furrowing. Then he shook himself out of thought. “Alright, point, but you can’t say they’re going to stop watching us just because you leave. We just need to go somewhere safe.” With that, he began to change, stripping off his sleep pants and getting ready to travel. 

Jaskier followed him around the room. “Safe? They followed us how far, dear heart? And how quick? Where the hell is safe?”

“Kaer Morhen.” Came the easy answer.

“Kaer- Geralt! Kaer Morhen? You want to take me to Kaer Morhen?”

Geralt shrugged as he stuffed clothes roughly into a bag, not caring if they were Jaskier’s or his and frowning when Jaskier didn’t scold him for the mishandling of the expensive fabrics. “Why not? You’ve met most of my brothers who travel back, it’s a fortress and protected by spells as well as needing an inhospitable travel to get to. And it’s only a month or so before Ciri and I would be heading there anyway. So soon it will be impossible for people to come and go or camp outside the school.” Jaskier stared at him with a gaping mouth as Ciri came out, buttons undone but otherwise dressed. 

“What the hell did you do to render Jaskier speechless?” She asked, darting back when Geralt went to cuff her around the head. “Jask, are you okay?” 

Snapping his mouth closed, Jaskier immediately smiled down at her. “Of course, my darling.” He pushed back her hair to tuck behind her ears and kissed her forehead, eyes shut tight. “Of course.”

Geralt coughed. “Ciri, do me a favour and find Aryan? Tell him I’ve been called home and any provisions he could spare would be gratefully received.” The girl stepped back from Jaskier and nodded, darting out the room.

“Come straight back!” Jaskier called behind her desperately, before sighing and turning to face Geralt. “Geralt-“

The Witcher cut him off, striding into his space and catching his face between his hands to hold him still while he pressed a hard kiss to Jaskier’s lips, licking into the bards mouth demandingly. Jaskier melted into the kiss easily, sighing into Geralt’s mouth and bringing his hands up to grasp at Geralt’s wrists. 

“You’ll be safe there.” Geralt murmured as they parted. “Let me keep you safe, dear heart.” He asked, voice low and quiet. 

“Okay.” Jaskier whispered back. “Okay.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the parts I actually first thought about for this story!
> 
> I hope ya’ll are enjoying!
> 
> Again, not beta read so please accept any and all mistakes <3


	3. You try so loud to love me

Travelling to Kaer Morhen took almost three full weeks, including a small detour to Ban Ard to send a letter to Yennefer and restock provisions for the long trek up the mountains. The road up was going to be rough, Geralt warned, and despite the fact that it was several weeks before he would normally be heading home, he insisted on the group wearing their winter gear. He did allow Jaskier’s mare to join them, though this was only because they weren’t travelling in the full winter. Just over two weeks after leaving Loc Muinne, they arrived at the base of the track to Kaer Morhen, ready to make the hardest leg of their journey, riding to make use of being able to trust the horses on the at-the-moment steady ground as Geralt assured Jaskier they should have to walk and lead the horses when they were higher and the ground was covered in snow and ice. Jaskier couldn’t help but feel relieved when they started the trip up; Geralt had been firm in his demand that neither Jaskier nor Ciri stray from the path and keep him in their sights as the road up was treacherous in terms of height and winding roads and crawling with beasts of you took a wrong turn. If Witchers followed a certain path up to be safe from the environment and creatures, surely it was impossible for a non-Witcher party to make their way up.

They had stopped in two towns, including Ban Ard, for rations, and both times Jaskier had had a towns person bring him a letter. Neither of these had mentioned the anger of the previous, simply fawned over the soft song Jaskier had been practicing at camp and suggested lyrics to go with the music. Geralt had taken both messengers aside and loomed threateningly while asking about the sender - but neither letter had been handed directly, instead had passed several hands or arrived by post. 

At the base of the mountain path a letter was tied to dangle from a tree and only told Jaskier _it will be cold up there, my bird, please don’t go, if you wish for a castle I will get you a castle_.

For the first two days, the journey was fair; it was chilly but their fur lined cloaks and boots were warm and the days passed quickly.

“Are you excited to see Kaer Morhen?” Ciri asked, twisting to see Jaskier’s face where she rode in front of him on Ladybug. 

Jaskier smiled. “You know, I am very much so. Long have I wished to see the halls of Witcher childhoods and I know it is not something many in this world get the chance to see.”

Turning forward, Ciri didn’t bother to raise her voice as she knew Geralt was already listening. “Why haven’t you taken Jaskier up before Geralt? You’ve been friends for so long!”

The two riders saw Geralt’s broad shoulders shrug. “Bringing non-Witchers to the school isn’t really done.” He called back without turning. “I can’t speak for the other schools but Vesemir wouldn’t appreciate strangers in his home. He’d probably prefer to kick both the person and the Witcher who bought them out to the elements than have his space invaded.”

Anxious, Jaskier pushed for Ladybug to catch up more to Roach. “Are you sure we should be doing this? Have you written ahead?”

Now Geralt turned his head to catch Jaskier’s eye. “It’ll be fine.” He said, obviously assuming that would be enough to calm Jaskier’s nerves.

“There’s no point sending word ahead since it would probably arrive just as we do.” Ciri said, patting Jaskier’s gloved hand. “The birds that carry the mail back and forth can only make the journey so often. Vesemir will understand, he’s reasonable.”

“Hmmm.” Said Geralt and the ball of anxiety in Jaskier’s stomach tightened.

From there the snow began to fall and the weather turned painfully cold, the winds howling so loud that Jaskier could barely sleep at night and had no chance of hearing his companions with his human ears. Jaskier and Ciri layered their clothes on, Ciri also being put in Geralt’s shirts and a second pair of gloves as she wouldn’t need to be holding reigns, with scarfs around their faces and belts around their cloaks to stop them from flapping open uselessly. As the weather went from snowing to blizzard, the horses needed to be guided so Ladybug took extra bags so that Roach could carry a blanket-wrapped Ciri, who would be up to her knees in snow otherwise. A day out, they finally reached the small cabin off the side of the trail where they could have some respite from the snow, if not the cold. Geralt seemed on edge in the hut.

“Weathers worse than it should be at this time of year. If it doesn’t calm down soon we may be the only ones able to make it up this season.”

But, thankfully, when they arose the next morning the storm had settled. The sky was still an empty grey colour and snow still fell in thick waves, but the sun was blearily visible behind the clouds and the winds had died down. Half way through the day Geralt pointed into the flurry of white, and Jaskier was delighted to finally see a vague dark shape with glowing orbs in the distance.

Kaer Morhen.

Crossing the bridge carefully, the trio arrived at the entrance to Kaer Morhen in the late afternoon, tired and cold but safe. The gates were already open and waiting, a small path having been dug out to lead them through the courtyard to the main doors. But in the courtyard square, a man stood, arms crossed and swords at his back, long cape blowing a dramatic streak of black against the white of the snow. Pushing this hood down, the man revealed a weathered but surprisingly unscarred face with suspicious eyes.

“Geralt!” The man called, opening his arms to greet Geralt who stepped into the rough hug. “What horrid timing you have. You deserve it, for coming up so early in the year.” 

“Good to see you safe and alive too.”

Vesemir ignored him. “Ciri, young one, welcome back. Your year on the path with Geralt looks to have served you well.”

“Hello Vesemir!”

Finally, the older Witcher turned his eyes to Jaskier, who clutched Ladybugs reigns tightly and swallowed against the lump in his throat. He trusted Geralt implicitly and without question and while this man was Geralt’s teacher, he wasn’t Geralt. Behind Vesemir, Jaskier saw Geralt about to step in but found himself, as usual, speaking before anyone else.

“My apologies for the intrusion on your home.” Jaskier started, voice catching. “I ask for safety.”

“Safety.” Vesemir repeated, peering at Jaskier in confusion. He turned to Geralt. “You have some explaining to do but let us sort your beasts first, and get your ward into the warmth.”

Geralt visibly relaxed, shoulder slumping. “Thank you, Vesemir.”

-

That night, Vesemir hummed over the letters spread out on the table in the library, having heard the story three times over and asking various questions during each telling. Geralt was pacing, nose twitching with the smell of mint in the air and awaiting his masters opinion. Jaskier had sat heavily on the sofa facing the table, exhausted enough to stay quiet and let Geralt talk for him - not their usually way of doing things. Ciri was curled into Jaskier’s side, covered with a blanket and asleep as far as Jaskier could tell. 

“You should send one of these to your witch friend,” Vesemir eventually suggested, “she may be able to do a location spell, or have a way to identify the writer.”

Geralt made a noise of agreement, finally settling and perching on the arm of the sofa next to Jaskier. “Can we do anything to protect Jaskier?”

Vesemir raised his eyebrows at his former student. “He travels with a Witcher and a Witcher-in-training,” he said dryly, “and he’s spending the next few months in a warded school of Witchers. How much more protection does he need?”

Huffing, Geralt crossed his arms and didn’t reply. Jaskier normally would have been delighted by the near-pout Geralt was pulling but instead he kept his eyes on Vesemir.

“So, I can stay?”

The older Witcher laughed. “Yes bard, you can stay.” He began to pile the letters up, leaving them on the side of the table. “You’ll have to pitch in of course - we take turns in chores to keep this place going for the winter and we can find you ways to keep busy while we train if needed. Perhaps songs that are not only about Geralt?”

Jaskier grinned, feeling a weight being lifted. “I’ve spun ballads over the crumbs that Geralt gives me, I can only imagine the works of art I could create with multiple Witchers giving me stories!”

With a roll of his eyes, Geralt scoffed. “I hope Lambert doesn’t make his way to us this year then, you’ll never stop him talking.” The Witcher placed a hand to the back of Jaskier’s neck and squeezed gently. “You be safe here.”

“A Witchers keep, no safer place - for you it seems at least.” Vesemir agreed, eyes darting between the two men. “Except perhaps a Witchers bed.”

“He’s got that sorted.” Geralt quipped back, making Jaskier make a noise of indignation.

Ciri huffed into Jaskier’s leg where she was dozing. “Gross.”

-

When on the road, Ciri was used to sleeping in between Geralt and Jaskier’s bedrolls - unless they set up the rarely used tent if the weather was bad in which case Ciri slept with Jaskier in the tent and Geralt meditated outside the door. The only time Geralt had curled himself into the tent with them was on the travel to Kaer Morhen when the weather was unbearable even for a Witcher. At inns, Geralt only ever got one room, And their sleeping arrangements depended on the amount of beds available and the seediness of the town. At Kaer Morhen though, oh, she had her own rooms, next to Geralt’s with a hidden door attaching them, but still, her own. She remembered last year, when Geralt had shown it to her with an almost nervous air about him that he was clearly struggling to contain under his normally unimpressed face. They were light and airy, with actual windows looking over the mountains and Geralt had clearly put in a lot of effort to make them comfortable for Ciri, probably painfully aware her last home had been a castle - Ciri knew it had been put together for her as no other room in the keep had drapes over the walls to keep the room warm, nor a soft chair in the corner next to an actual writing desk, nor a slightly tarnished but while mirror propped against the wall. And the bed matched none of the built in furniture, meaning it had been moved in for her, and them had been made plush with multitudes of blankets and furs. She loved it, of course, and when she told Geralt so and hugged him, she felt him relax heavily. 

As lovely as her rooms were, it took Ciri several days to get used to sleeping out of reach of Geralt, though she was sure if she called he would hear her through the walls and be at her side in an instant. Her hearing was not as good as a Witchers though, not yet, but even her ears picked up the gates being forced open around three weeks into their stay, and she hurriedly finished getting dressed to head to the schools entrance. By the time she got there, the rest of the schools inhabitants were already waiting so she skidded to a stop at Jaskier’s side, letting him curl an arm around her shoulders as a hooded figure covered in snow lifted Geralt bodily from the floor in a bear hug.

“Fuck off, Lambert! You’re getting me all wet, you dick!”

Behind them, Vesemir closed the doors to the snowing outside and clicked his tongue at the language. 

Dropping Geralt to the ground, Lambert laughed and threw his hood down. “Look at you, not dead last to arrive for once!”

Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled the mans head forwards by the back of his neck to bump foreheads. “Welcome home, brother.”

Clearly Vesemir had already received his welcome, as Lambert’s gaze moved to Jaskier and Ciri who both waved and called their hellos.

“You bought two guests this year - this having friends thing is clearly getting out of hand, Geralt.”

“For fuck-“ Geralt sighed. “Whatever. Ciri, Jask, I’m sure you remember Lambert - he tends to linger in people’s memory like a particularly bad smell.”

“Geralt you son of a-“

Vesemir shook his head as he went past the bickering Witchers and motioned Jaskier and Ciri to the hall for breakfast. “At least you’re two are here,” the elder grumbled, leaving his two students in the hall. “I don’t think I could bear these two on my own while waiting for someone else to arrive.”

As it turned out, Vesemir wouldn’t have had to survive very long, as Eskel arrived a week later, while Geralt and Vesemir loaded a list of titles of books for Ciri to read, basically kicking the hall door open to announce himself. Geralt strode over to greet his friend, the two holding a hug for a long moment, long enough for Lambert to come barrelling in from behind Eskel and tackle them both to the floor.

Ciri giggled at the sight while Vesemir swore and went over to yell at his students as they kicked and wrestled each other on the floor. Jaskier tutted from where he was perched on Ciri’s table. 

“What rowdy puppies.” He said, making Ciri laugh harder and Eskel’s face turn toward them.

“Hello Ciri, hello Jaskier.” He called from where he was pinning Lambert to the cold floor. The two returned his greetings but he didn’t hear them, as Geralt took his distraction as opportunity to pull him into a headlock and off their other brother.

A lot of the work setting up for winter had been done, since Geralt had arrived early and both Jaskier and Ciri had pitched in to help; plenty of firewood had been stored, windows and floors mended, food sorted and weapons counted. But some things, like the general cleaning, were the last to be done and other things, such as the damaged courtyard wall, had needed multiple Witchers to fix. Still, Lambert and Eskel were happy enough to have gotten out of a lot of the work, so much so that they only teased Geralt a little for arriving home so early; and less so when they found out why.

“Aw shit.” Eskel said as the story unfolded while they sat around the dinner table later that day. The man stood up and fetched his bag. “That probably explains these then.” He pulled out a small stack of paper, letters in envelopes, wrapped together with string and all with Jaskier’s name on them. “Found them pinned to a tree near the cabin off the trail, assumed Geralt would be coming this year and he could deliver them to you.” He finished, apology in his voice as he looked at Jaskier who found himself no longer hungry. With so many letters together, Geralt’s noice scrunched at the smell as his face twisted into a snarl. 

“Fuck.” 

Jaskier swallowed roughly and untied the string, spreading the seven letters across the table. For the last few weeks he had felt so relaxed, despite all the work he had helped with and, more than that, he had felt safe, secure. Now they were days from being able to leave for the next two months and Jaskier couldn’t help but feel trapped - not with the people in the school but like a caged animal whose master studied them through the cage bars. Worse still he had felt himself returning to his chatty and happy self since arriving, having realised he had become withdrawn and somber lately, and he could now already feel the return of the heavy ball in his stomach. 

Four of the letters where sad laments of how dull and sad the world was with Jaskier away with plenty of parallels between Jaskier’s absence and that of the sun - all of these were much like the letters Jaskier used to get, adoring words of a love letter. The other three were much more in tune with the latest letters, vague and threatening and coming across as unhealthy in their level of infatuation. Several times over the three letters the writer became angry, _why would you leave me?! You can’t just leave me! Alone! I won’t be without you!_ , before settling again, _I understand, it’s okay, I accept any apologies, you need space and time, it’s alright, I will wait for you_ and then turning forbidding, _it’s too much being away from you, I’ll never let you leave my side again, my bird, never again_ , before the cycle started again. 

Jaskier bit at his nails as the rest of the table flipped through the letters, the Witchers mumbling to each other and themselves while Ciri moved to cuddle into Jaskier’s side after leafing though some of the notes. 

“Fuck, bardling, you’ve got yourself a emotional stalker, huh?” Said Lambert, sniffing at a letter and wrinkling his nose before motioning at Ciri. “Come here, little tiger, tell me what you smell.”

“Lion.” Ciri shot back as she slipped from Jaskier to sit next to Lambert and press her entire face to the paper.

“They started out so admiring,” Jaskier mumbled. “They said they were a fan.”

Eskel gave him a sympathetic look over the table. “I’m sure that’s how a lot of them start.”

Seeing Jaskier pouting, Geralt wandered over to thread a hand through the bards hair, stroking a thumb over the shell of his ear. “I can’t help I’m so loveable.” Jaskier said, and Geralt huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to his head.

“When your dads are done being disgusting and handsy,” Lambert said loudly, bringing the attention of the room to him and Ciri and making Geralt scowl at him. “The baby jaguar would like to say something.”

“Lion.” Ciri’s stressed again, and then, “It smells like mint.”

Geralt released Jaskier to take the seat next to Ciri and hum. “They all do,” he praised while Jaskier watched, amused as Eskel and Vesemir sniffed at the letters in their hands, “The flowers that were sent smelled like it too.” 

Jaskier pawed through the satchel he had under the table. “I think I put some of the flowers in here to press, actually... I never got around to it so they’ll be dead but...”

While Jaskier searched, Eskel tilted his head. “Ya know, I met a mage last year that smelled only of lavender and chamomile. And when he cast a spell the smell got stronger.”

“You didn’t say any of your hunts led to a mage.” Lambert questioned, making Eskel grin.

“It was less business and more pleasure.”

“You horny fuck.”

“Yen smells of lilac and gooseberries.” Geralt interrupted, thinking aloud and catching on to the line of thought.

Vesemir hummed thoughtfully. “Magic can have scents, and the stronger the user the more individual the smell.”

Ciri pulled at Geralt’s arm. “Is it a witch then that’s after Jaskier?”

Geralt made a vague noise. “It’s a theory, we have no proof of magic.”

“And a magic user doesn’t have to be a witch, little leopard.” Lambert cut in.

“Lion!”

Vesemir tapped the table. “Magic would explain the way the letters appeared no matter where you headed. And why no one could have you a straight answer for the writer.”

“Geralt...”

The table of Witchers looked over to see Jaskier holding the flowers he had stuffed in his bag some months previously. The bard had a worried look on his face as he held the gifted blooms out for the room to see. Despite being at the bottom of a heavily used satchel for months, travelling through all weathers and being handled non to gently, the stems and leaves were still green and study and the flowers brightly coloured, looking lush and fresh. No wilting on the petals nor crushing or folding on the flower heads or stems - the flowers were still as pretty and delicate as when they had arrived for Jaskier, as if they were newly picked, still selling sweet and fresh of mint.

Geralt sighed. “Fuck.”

-

Two weeks later the weather had worsened so much that there was no way to leave the mountain any more - the passes would be filled with snow and the trails completely unseen. The three young Witchers had been spending every morning clearing a path from the front door to the large gate and a square in the training area but now that the snow was falling constantly in heavy silent curtains there was no point. Instead they moved the weapons into one of the halls for storage, Jaskier and Ciri cleared the tables to the side so training could still be had while they were likely to be trapped inside the keep and Vesemir directed both parties. 

The last time they had been able to leave the grounds of the school, Eskel and Geralt had gone hunting, returning with a surprising amount of meat for the coming few weeks between them from Lambert’s traps. Geralt also pulled out three new letters which he and Eskel had found pinned to tree a few metres from the gate. Despite the weather, the were unsettlingly dry and readable. Their contents worried after Jaskier’s health in the winter cold and yearned for spring so Jaskier would be freed from his isolation from civilisation.

Despite these latest letters, Jaskier, Ciri and Vesemir took to the confinement well; Vesemir seemed to have an endless list of studies for Ciri and when he wasn’t teaching her about beasts and potions he had his own research that kept him squirrelled away in a tower. Jaskier joined Ciri in some of her lessons but he was also finishing his paper and between those he would take full advantage of the books Vesemir allowed him access to, making pages and pages of short hand scribbles to use for later songs. Ciri was kept especially busy, with Vesemir teaching her theories she also had the attention of all three younger Witchers to teach her practical skills and even when she wasn’t allowed to join in certain exercises, she was told to watch and analyse the adult Witchers.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert struggled more with the captivity - not badly, since they did this every year, but Witchers were made to wander and hunt, the poisons that made them such hardy fighters and trackers gave them too much energy to waste in the winter months cooped up in their old school. The training helped, but the close quarters increased tensions that made the disagreements become arguments and sparing become fights. Geralt had warned Jaskier of this, and that no make-up would be seen, instead the loosing Witcher would go to lick their wounds and pride in peace and then all would be forgiven and forgotten, the brothers back to teasing and playing only for strain to build and the circle continue. 

But it wasn’t really in Jaskier’s ability to stay out of other peoples business. The first time he saw Lambert’s and Geralt’s sniping become a full blown fight, he watched in alarm, not scared but unhappy and one edge. The next few times (twice more with Geralt and Lambert and one time with Geralt and Eskel, though this was less from an argument and more from too much rowdiness during sparing) he was less concerned but watched with narrowed eyes. Finally, when Lambert has enticed an argument with Eskel enough to tempt the other Witcher into a fight, Jaskier followed Eskel when he stormed off to the end of the hall with the fire. 

Although Geralt trusted Eskel implicitly, his head shot up when Jaskier trailed after his brother with a bowl of water and some salve and bandage, tensing and watching as Jaskier shoved Eskel into the position he wanted. Geralt relaxed when Eskel did nothing but blink at the bard as Jaskier settled down next to him and began cleaning the long scratch Lamberts dagger had made on his arm. Dumbfounded and a bit amused, Eskel let himself be manhandled, drawing the attention of Vesemir and Lambert.

“He got my side worse than I got his arm, why does he get pampered?” Lambert demanded from the other end of the wall where he had set himself next to Ciri, who was so used to both the Witchers antics and Jaskier’s reactions to Geralt being injured that she didn’t look up from her book. 

“Because you started it,” Jaskier said firmly, making Lambert snap his mouth closed at being spoken back to. “You can damn well wait your turn.”

A raven flew an open window and perched itself by Geralt. Vesemir joined him as he untied the letter attached to its leg. “He knows Witchers don’t need that crap to heal, right?”

Geralt shrugged as he unrolled the letter. “He knows. Doesn’t stop him though.” After the heavy implication that magic was involved with Jaskier’s admirer, Geralt had written to Yennefer again, asking for an update on any information about the writer since they hadn’t heard after sending the letter and requesting advice. Now Yennefer had written back, mostly to tell them to _calm the fuck down_ and let her _work for fucks sake, damnit Geralt._ However, the letter also advised that the writer was clearly not an average armoured fan and to give her more time to work with the letter. In the mean time, the gifted flowers and letters should be kept away from Jaskier incase they were being used to track the bard. 

Later that night, while getting ready for bed, Geralt let Jaskier rub a salve onto a bruise Lambert had given him while showing Ciri holds. “Vesemir said powerful magic held a scent that was individual to the user,” he mused aloud, “if your stalker uses magic, why are they playing with letters and following us? Why haven’t they made a move?”

“I don’t like the word stalker.” Jaskier muttered, but didn’t have an option of what else to call the person. “I don’t know, I don’t want them to; I just want them to loose interest.” He sighed and pressed a kiss to the bruise before quirking a smile and shaking his bracelet to make Geralt’s talisman catch the light. “Perhaps this is working better than you expected.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, curling his arm around Jaskier and pulling the man into his lap. “Somehow I doubt that my little protection trinket will do much against magic strong enough to follow us up here.” He nuzzled into the warm skin of Jaskier’s neck. “Perhaps I should ask Vesemir if it can be upgraded.”

-

For another three weeks the weather was painfully consistent in its cold and windy state. Jaskier took to wearing Geralt’s shirts on top of his own for an extra layer of warmth and was usually curled into a cape as well as he sat strumming on his lute which half-watching the Witcher’s train. All the Witchers has noticed when he did this the first time, four men sniffing the air and then snapping their heads towards him as he entered the kitchen where they ate breakfast. Ciri was thankfully still half asleep so missed the dark-eyed look Geralt sent Jaskier’s way and the grins on Lambert’s and Eskel’s faces at new teasing material. By now the extra mixing of Geralt’s smell on Jaskier was common place but Geralt liked to make his happiness of Jaskier’s new habit known, even in front of his brothers and child surprise. 

“Done already?” Jaskier asked as Geralt slid into the seat on the bench next to him, not looking up from where his eyes were flicking between his music notes and his lute strings. 

Geralt hummed noncommittally and slipped an arm around Jaskier’s waist while simultaneously leaning in to press a kiss behind Jaskier’s ear and breathe in the smell of the bard wrapped in his scent. Jaskier stifled a laugh and swatted at the Witcher. A small stone wizzed through the air and smacked Geralt on the thigh, making the Witcher huff into Jaskier’s ear and pull both their attention to Geralt’s abandoned training group. 

“Who the hell threw that?” Geralt growled, standing and stalking towards the training space with a glint in his eye.

“The wee panther.” Lambert said quickly.

Ciri gasped. “Tattletale! You told me to!”

“Lion.” Eskel corrected on her behalf, laughing when Geralt darted forwards to scoop the trainee-Witcher up and throw her over his shoulder. 

“Do you think the snows deep enough to chuck her out the window?”

“No!” Ciri cried, laughing and wiggling in Geralt’s hold as he walked towards a window.

Lambert grinned as he and Eskel followed their brother. “Only one way to find out!”

A loud cough cut the game short and the three Witchers froze and turned to see Vesemir watching them with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised, having entered the room while the occupants were distracted. Eskel and Lambert stood straight and clasped their hands behind themselves but Geralt, holding Ciri by her ankles out of the window, simply held still till Vesemir motioned to him with a heavy sigh. 

Bringing Ciri back into the room, Geralt released one ankle to grab her hand and flip her upright, placing her with her feet on the floor and steadying her as she stood. “I wouldn’t have actually dropped her.” He offered.

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Vesemir replies, “you’re far too soft on her. I would have dropped all three of you out weeks ago.”

Jaskier shook his head and joined the Witchers so he could smooth Ciri’s wind-blown hair down. 

Vesemir held up a set of lists. “The weather has calmed the last three days and I need some foraging to be done. Think of it as a hunting exercise. And a way to keep you all out of trouble for an afternoon at least.”

Peering over Geralt’s shoulder, Jaskier read his list with interest. He whistled. “Well, while you strong Witcher types are digging in the snow and frolicking in the cold wind, I guess I’ll sit by the warm fire and compose - I’m thinking a jaunty song about how Witchers bodies run warm but their balls can still freeze and drop off.” 

“Ha fucking ha.” Lambert said, folding up his own list and tucking it into a pocket.

Showing two more sets of paper, Vesemir smirked. “Actually I have a list for you, and for Ciri as well.” They were noticeably shorter than those given to his students but were still of plants and oddities needed from outside the warm walls of the school. “Ciri, because she will have to learn to forage in such unidealised environments and you-“

“And me?! Why would a bard ever need to do such a thing?”

“Because you’ve been distracting Geralt lately and being far too smug about it.”

Jaskier sniffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, good sir.”

“I’m sure.” He clapped his hands. “Dress warmly!”

Despite dressing as advised, and more, Jaskier was still feeling the cold in his hands and feet. Crunching through the snow for an hour already, he had only crossed off two of his five items and was steadily loosing his interest in this game. Across the courtyard, he caught sight of Geralt and stomped over to where the Witcher was reaching up and scraping something off a moss covered wall. The man didn’t turn but Jaskier knew that Geralt knew he was there and so didn’t announce himself as he huffed and bent to shove his face into Geralt exposed armpit. He felt rather than heard the Witcher laugh and peered up to see Geralt putting his scrapings into a pot and tucking the pot away. The man then finally let his arm drop and curl around Jaskier’s shoulders.

“All done?”

Jaskier glared at the man. “You know I’m not. I’ve found my larch tree bark and even my fucking buzzard feather. But I’ve not seen any heather, I’ve not tasted any of you use rosemary in your meals and I don’t even know what bloody red dogwood looks like.”

Even with the cold and his inability to find his listed items, Jaskier felt himself smile as Geralt laughed, the sight and sound always making Jaskier’s heart happy. The Witcher turned Jaskier around and removed him from his embrace.

“Around that corner of the school leads to the back of the castle and Vesemir’s greenhouse,” he murmured into Jaskier’s ear. “The rosemary will be in there - incidentally around the back of the greenhouse grows a twiggy bare bush with red wood, that’s your dogwood. You’ll have to go all the way around to the front courtyard for heather, but it usually grows well there.”

Jaskier twisted to smile brightly at Geralt. “My hero.” He murmured, taking a handful of Geralt’s cape to pull the Witcher into a kiss. They wasted a few minutes there, wrapped up together and kissing hungrily, till Geralt eventually pulled back, looking softly at Jaskier who’s lips and cheeks redder than when they began.

“Do I get a reward later?”

“Witchers always want something for helping.” Jaskier teased, leaning up to kiss Geralt’s nose. “So long as my poor musically blessed fingers don’t drop off from frostbite, yes, dear heart, a reward will be yours.”

He turned and began making his way to his pointed direction, movement hindered by his layers of clothing. “I’ll meet you inside and help you warm up.” Geralt called after him and Jaskier grinned at the promise. 

Following Geralt’s directions, Jaskier turned the corner of the building and following it down, walking along side the crumbling walls of the schools grounds. The floor began to fall into an decline of a hill but at the bottom Jaskier could see trees and, just passed them, the roof of a greenhouse. Eager to be inside and warm in Geralt’s arms, Jaskier’s feet moved quicker as he moved down the steadily steepening hill. Whether it was ice or a rock hiding under the snow, Jaskier wasn’t sure, what he did know is that his booted right foot stepped onto what Jaskier thought was snow covered grass and slipped straight off, making him fumble. His arms flew out to try and stabilise himself but it was only by digging his gloved hand into the snow did he stop himself from falling into the cold snow or sliding down the hill entirely. Heart thumping, Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief and paused to let himself regain balance before trying to right himself. A slim gap in the wall gave him a good place to grab and steady himself and once he was stable on his feet, Jaskier’s eyes caught the sight of clusters of purple flowers on the other side of the wall.

Heather.

Stretching his arm out, Jaskier couldn’t reach the shrub. Humming, the bard debated his options. The heather here looked surprisingly lush and healthy, and it was only a few steps away, through a gap he was sure he could fit through easily. But was that cheating? Vesemir said that all the items where within the grounds of the school? Plus, what if the Witchers heather was special? Unlikely seeing as Geralt foraged for ingredients all over the land. Geralt had told him where the heather grew so he was sure to find the plant in the grounds... but that was where is usually grew, it wasn’t certain to be there. And the front gates would take him ages to wall to while hampered with so many layers. Layers that were still letting the cold in...

A wet feeling seeping into his boot from his slip made the decision for him and Jaskier quickly squeezed through the gap in the wall. 

The bard hummed as he walked to the heather and bent to pick good handfuls of the plant, the plant smelling delightfully of fresh mint as he broke them from their shrub. Jaskier took a breath to continue his song and then paused, realising how still and quiet it suddenly was. Inside the grounds of the school, Jaskier had been able to hear birds moving, winds blowing and the other foragers crunching through the snow around him. Now, there seemed to be a shell, blanketing all noise. No birds, no wind, and certainly no footsteps of the Witcher’s. Just Jaskier’s heavy breath. 

A soft crack of a branch sounded and Jaskier turned sharply, peering into the woods. 

Nothing moved, the entire area was deadly still. Something felt wrong. Swallowing, Jaskier decided he had enough of the plant and stuffed his findings into his pocket as he turned sharply to hurry back to the gap in the wall. As he walked, he noticed some of the flowers where stuck to his gloves and he brushed them away against his cape, making more of that mint smell disperse.

Jaskier stopped, frozen mid-step as a terror washed over him like the smell had. Unable to move, Jaskier realised why he felt unsettled. 

He wasn’t alone.

-

“Jaskier!”

“Jaskier!”

“Jask!”

“Jaskier!”

“Bard!”

“Jaskier!”

Geralt huffed as he looked around the snowing grounds. With his advise, Jaskier shouldn’t have been last, really should have been back before himself. 

“Jask!”

“Jaskier!”

Reaching the corner of the building which ran close to the wall surrounding the grounds, Geralt closed his eyes and breathed deep - he tuned out the sounds of the others calling for Jaskier and concentrated in finding Jaskier’s smell under all the snow. Lemongrass, the rose soap, warm cinnamon and a slight tang of salty sweat from walking around in layers. 

There were no footprints down this way due to the snowfall that had restarted but Geralt was sure Jaskier would follow his directions.

“Jaskier!”

“Jaskier!”

He could still hear the others as he picked his way down the hill, wondering what could have kept Jaskier so long. The greenhouse would be warm and stuffy, it wasn’t unreasonable that the bars would want to stay in there to gain feeling in his toes but if Geralt found him napping in amongst the herbs he was going to be pissed. 

A harsh dip of snow caught his eye. Kicking the snow away, Geralt found a large flat rock which was icy on top. With the steepness of the hill, could Jaskier have slipped here? Geralt found no blood so the bard was unlikely to be injured. Not a bad slip then, just enough to make a decent mark in the snow and make Jaskier reach out-

Geralt eyed the gap in the wall, wondering if Jaskier grabbed it to steady himself. A deep sniff told him the bard had come close to the wall.

“Jaskier!”

“Bardling!”

“Jaskier!”

Very close to the wall. Way too close. Did he press against it?

Studying the gap, golden eyes caught a flash of colour near the trees on the otherwise of the wall. Random petals. Geralt pressed a hand to the wall and paused, peering out through the gap.

Purple petals.

A heather shrub. 

A weirdly healthy, singular, heather shrub growing out in the open. And a few steps in front, a handful of scattered heather petals loose from the plant. 

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

“Jaskier.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit excited writing about the Witcher boys interacting *heart eyes*
> 
> Can I just say how giddy your comments make me?? Everyone is so lovely and it literally makes me smile and so so delighted. I’m glad everyone was getting the unsettling vibe and the danger building, I wasn’t sure if I was writing it too slow or fast but so many of you seemed happy and invested in the building creepiness of our admirer. 
> 
> So thank you so so much for all your comments, whether it’s a word or a paragraph it makes me so happy that you guys are enjoying this and picking up on my hints. 
> 
> Much love dear hearts!!


	4. Be good to me I beg of him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! There is non-con touching in this chapter!

Jaskier woke slowly, ridiculously warm and comfortable in his bed and completely happy to stay sunk into his plush mattress and curled under his blankets and feather duvets. Dimly, through his snugness and barely awake brain, he realised he could hear birds singing happily and could feel the warmth of the sun on his exposed face; delighted by the idea of sun breaking through the clouds surrounding Kaer Morhen, Jaskier reached back behind him to see if Geralt was awake and out of bed yet, or whether Jaskier could encourage his Witcher to stay in bed to enjoy the morning a bit longer. Frowning when his hand hit nothing but sheets, Jaskier huffed at the thought of leaving his warm cozied state to search the schools cold halls for Geralt. 

Jaskier opened his eyes, gasping into the quiet of the room as his brain caught up and sent alarm bells ringing at the fact he didn’t remember getting to bed after searching in the snow for Vesemir’s list. 

Sitting up, Jaskier stared at the room around him, breathing harder as he took in the unfamiliar stone and wood walls, artfully made furniture and beautiful tapestries and draperies. The room was large, with the huge four poster bed he was currently on against the back wall so it faced the rest of the room; the light he had felt was from a set of windows to his left and to his right was a screen for dressing, next to a wardrobe and a full length mirror. Scrambling out of the tangled covers, Jaskier stumbled to the first window, finding the grass unable to be opened. Whatever room he was in was high, and below showed little but a courtyard and a tall wall beyond that. Jaskier shoved at the glass but he barely made a dull thud on the solid window, the only evidence of his attempt being his palm marks on the glass and the sting on his hands. The second and third windows were the same and Jaskier could feel himself panicking with each try. Jaskier bought his hands to his mouth to cover his loud breaths and closed his eyes tight, willing himself to calm down and stop his mind from whirring. After a while he could reopen his eyes without feeling dizzy. Looking around the room gave no other exits except a single wooden door at the front of the room and a smaller door behind the screen near the bed. Taking a deep, shaking breath, Jaskier moved towards the screen, only realising he was barefoot when he stepped off the soft rug and onto the wooden floor. His feet and ankles were bare and he was only dressed in unfamiliar soft sleep pants and loose tunic; a small whine escaped him, as he wondered how he had been changed from the clothes he had been wearing. 

The door behind the screen led to a toilet chamber and bathroom, with a large tub and an open box full of soaps and perfumes and a shelf with a mirror above it and a bowl of clean water. Slowly walking over to the shelf, Jaskier dipped his hands into the cool water to bring a cupful up to his mouth and drink deeply. The forth time he used his hands to remove water from the bowl, instead of drinking he splashed his face with the water and scrubbed hard. Letting the water drip, Jaskier looked at himself in the mirror, his large worried eyes peering back at him.

“Where am I?” He asked his reflection, hesitantly, worried a reply might actually come. When his mirror self did nothing but mimic him, Jaskier walked out of the room into the bedroom, looking around the quiet area with somewhat fresher eyes. The door called his name but going out into an unknown keep with no shoes or proper clothing had never ended well for him so instead Jaskier moved to the wardrobe, hoping to find his clothes. 

His winter set was not waiting for him there, instead Jaskier found a line of doublets hung up in a range of lovely colours and neatly folded matching trousers below them. In the draw where small clothes, chemises, tunics and shirts and in another deeper drawer were a line of boots. Gently, Jaskier ran his hand along the doublets before pulling out a pale green one with light gold stitching. Taking it, the matching trousers and a soft gold chemise with some socks and small clothes, Jaskier ducked behind the screen to change. He frowned when he reappeared, not because he was unhappy with the outfit - a quick glance in the mirror told him the colour suited him well, he couldn’t help but be happy to find - but because every item fit him perfectly, as if tailored. When he put his feet into a soft pair of light brown boots, he found the same.

The corridors outside the room were surprisingly mild and bright; the tall walls had windows very so often, streaming light into the enclosed area as Jaskier took a random path down the hall. The warmth of the building made Jaskier uneasy. Just how far was he from Kaer Morhen? There were barely any other doors down the halls, no matter how many turns he took, and every one that he came by he opened, only to find a small empty room, nothing like the lavish quarters he had woken up in. Jaskier lost count of the halls he walked down, steps getting faster and faster till he finally turned a corner and found a set of steps leading downwards and he couldn’t help the noise of relief that came out of him. The stairs curled tightly as he went down, dim with only the windows from the halls above and below as the light source. 

Downstairs Jaskier was glad to see the hallway was not like the ground above but was instead a wide hallway lined with a roll of rug and wonderfully furnished with art and drapes and tables instead of the empty stone walls he had been walking through. The windows were still high above the actual ground floor, it seemed, and were just as attached to the wall as the ones in the bedroom. But they let in plenty of the morning light and made the hallway look soft and ethereal, if slightly eerie in its emptiness. There were several large and heavy looking wooden doors leading off the hall which Jaskier chose at random, but just as he placed his hand on one of the handles, a sound caught his ear.

Someone was humming.

Peering down the hall, there was no movement. Jaskier moved slowly to his right, following the sound past a few other doors and around a corner to another hallway identical to the one he had come down to - except one of the doors here was open, letting another source of light spill onto the floor like a guide for Jaskier to follow. The humming was louder here, a fair voice but nothing overly special. Softly, Jaskier moved towards the door and turned into the room, stopping in the doorway. 

It was a huge entertainment room of sorts, the front of it with more beautiful pictures and drapes and soft looking chairs and slightly further in was a long table set up with ridiculous amounts of breakfast foods. Large windows let light beam down onto the walls and caught the delicate chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Beyond the eating area, the floor stepped down into a dancing area, floor gleaming in the light of the wide fireplace that was being tended to.

“That’s my song.”

Jaskier bit his lip as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Clearly surprised, the man poking the fire stopped humming and stood quickly, spinning round with his mouth agape. He was very handsome, tanned and blond with wide shoulders and a trim waist which was shown by his tailored outfit in dark blue. Dark brown eyes set on Jaskier and straight white teeth gleamed as he smiled nervously, rushing forwards and almost tripping over the step of the room, coming to a stop a few feet from Jaskier who took half a step back.

“You’re awake! I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you’d be up yet. You... you look glorious in that colour, Jaskier.” The man’s eyes went wide in realisation. “Gosh, you must have been so confused when you woke up all alone, it’s surprising you managed to find me here.”

“I, um, heard you humming.” Jaskier offered.

The man laughed. “Of course, and you would follow music so instinctively. My apologies, the tunes been in my head for days - I know you’re still working on it and it probably doesn’t sound much like you’re aiming for...”

Jaskier watched him fiddle with a button on his jacket anxiously and tilted his head. “Your voice is a bit low.” He said slowly. “But it suited well enough to the tune.”

Brightening, the man gestured to the table, darting to pull a seat back as Jaskier hesitantly walked to the long display of food. Once Jaskier had been sat and tucked into the table, the man took a seat with a gap between himself and Jaskier and cleared his throat.

“You’re too kind. You’ve always been so praising. I love the tune, I’m very excited to hear what lyrics you put to it.” He motioned to the food and, when Jaskier chose and dropped a single pastry to his golden plate, the man began to fill his plate of meats and cheeses.

Jaskier watched him do so and stayed quiet, waiting till he had taken a bite of food to open his mouth.

“It’s Nathaniel, isn’t it?” Once again caught off guard, the man twisted in his seat to stare at Jaskier with wide eyes, pausing in his chewing. “You went to Oxenfurt. You were... two years below me? Maybe three?”

Swallowing hard, the man’s mouth dropped open before he could find words. “You remember me.” He said, so soft Jaskier was sure he didn’t mean for him to hear. Then, louder, “Yes. Two years below. I can’t believe you-“ He shook his head to cut himself off. “You were amazing even then.”

Dipping his head, Jaskier kept his eyes on him as he tore up his pastry. “Thank you. I thought- didn’t you leave? A year or so in?”

“Ah.” Nathaniel turned back to his plate with a sad soft look. “Yes. Family matters. My father was the only one who indulged my love of music you see, but when he died in my final year, I was called home as the only son to take on his estate. My mother demanded I take on my role of heir and drop out.”

“I’m sorry.”

Nathaniel smiled at him. “It’s alright, I was heartbroken for a while but I found ways to channel my anger and grief.” Here he motioned around him. “Collecting art and other fine things! They bring me such peace.”

“Well.” Jaskier said, unsure. “Congratulations. You’ve clearly done incredibly well for yourself and your family.”

One blond eyebrow twitched but was quickly smoothed away. “I heard of your travelling songs, of course, but it was only when I went to Oxenfurt and heard you in the university singing...” Nathaniel closed his eyes and smiled. “It was like magic, the way your voice rekindled my love for music. Like a sudden burst of light that woke me up from a dark sleep.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Jaskier. “And I knew I had to tell you how magnificent you were, I know no one would be appreciating your music like I was.”

Jaskier swallowed. “So, the letters?”

“I was shy to talk to you direct.” Nathaniel admitted. “After all, I dropped out of Oxenfurt and you were just so amazing... I was almost embarrassed thinking about just walking up to you. I knew everything had to be perfect - it took me longer than expected to get this all set up.”

“All this...” Jaskier repeated, looking around. “All this... is for me?”

Laughing, Nathaniel reached over the table to grab at Jaskier’s hand, his fingers cold as they gripped him. “Yes, my songbird. All for you.” His eyes practically glowed as they bore into Jaskier. “Everything is for you now.”

Jaskier swallowed hard, feeling nauseous. “It’s very flattering.” He started. “I don’t know what to say.”

The man hushed at him, stroking his hand. “You don’t need to say anything. Just be here. With me. Always.”

“Always is a long time.” Jaskier said carefully. “Is there anyone else here?”

Nathaniel stood and took a long slip of his drink. “We need no one else.”

Feeling panic well up inside him, Jaskier shook his head. “Nathaniel, it’s not that I don’t appreciate this, I do, it’s just too much. And it’s not right! I can’t just stay here.”

“You will!” Nathaniel yelled suddenly, face twisting into a snarl and voice loud and powerful enough to make the hairs on the back of Jaskier’s neck stand up. Instinctively, Jaskier jumped from his seat and darted to the door, but he only got a few long steps away before he was being yanked to a standstill by his wrist, so hard that he almost fell to the ground. 

Looking at his hand, Nathaniel hadn’t grabbed him. Instead, a thin gold chain was attached to the bracelet he was wearing and keeping him tethered to the ground as the gold chain was pulled taut and disappeared into the floor.

“What the fuck?” Jaskier said breathlessly, catching Nathaniel moving towards him out of the corner of his eye as he fumbled to unlatch the bracelet. 

Strong hands covered his own to stop him from scratching and yanking. “It won’t come off.” He smiled brightly at Jaskier. “I’m so glad you kept wearing my gift.”

Jaskier looked at the man desperately, Nathaniel smiling down at the bracelet and suddenly calm despite his outburst. “This wasn’t from you- it was from- from-“

“Albert. I’m not surprised he told you it was from him, he’s been lusting after you since the start of term, I heard. Still, you may have removed it had you known it was from me.” He waved his hand and the chain disappeared. “I didn’t want to use this but it seems we’ll have to, for a while anyway.”

Pulling his hand back from Nathaniel, Jaskier curled his hand around the bracelet, clutching at his wildflower talisman. “You’re the mage? I assumed you had someone else do the magic...”

“Warlock, actually.” Nathaniel corrected and cocked a smile ruefully. “Yes, that means I had to bribe my way in to my gifts. A fair trade for both parties, don’t you worry. Now,” he stepped into Jaskier’s space and grabbed his shoulder before Jaskier could move away. “Please, my love, be good for me. You’ll have everything your heart desires.”

“Except my freedom.”

Nathaniel shrugged and his grip tightened. “A small sacrifice, I promise you. You’ll be so happy here with me. You just need to accept it. Accept your place with me, accept my gifts and my love.”

Jaskier’s voice was small. “And in return?”

One hand let go of Jaskier’s shoulders to brush his hair from his eyes. “You’ll fall in love with me eventually,” Nathaniel said softly, surely. 

-

Jaskier was asked to sit for breakfast again and the two ate as if nothing had happened - or Nathaniel ate as if nothing had happened while Jaskier picked at his food and watched the other man warily. Then Nathaniel took Jaskier around and showed him behind all the doors on the floor - a kitchen which was surprisingly clean for the amount of food that had been served, a library, a study, a greenhouse somehow indoors and a music room with more instruments than Jaskier had even seen at university. When Jaskier feigned being tired, Nathaniel cooed in concern and walked the bard back to his room, taking his arm to lead him when Jaskier said about finding his way back. But to Jaskier’s surprise, they turned a single corner once upstairs and his open door was waiting for him.

“I don’t understand.” Jaskier said, walking into the room, confused. “I walked for ages!”

Nathaniel laughed and waved his fingers at Jaskier. “Magic, my songbird.”

And magic seemed to be the answer for most things around the castle. Sometimes Jaskier’s room was facing east, sometimes west, sometimes it would take him an hour to find the stairs and sometimes his door would open almost on top of the staircase, sometimes he was directly above the entertainment hall and sometimes he had to climb down three flights of stairs. Downstairs, he always entered from the same point but no matter how long he wondered, he could never find a door to the outside nor a window that opened. The kitchen was always full of whatever he fancied to eat and the weather always suited to his wants - usually a fair springtime day. Whenever he asked about this, Nathaniel would take his hand and kiss his knuckles, telling Jaskier that he would always provide for his wants. 

Being around Nathaniel was like walking a tightrope - on one side there was unwelcome affection and touching and on the other was aggression and sometimes even physical punishment. 

If Jaskier behaved and accepted the clothes and chocolates and jewellery that Nathaniel bestowed upon him, he would accidentally encourage the man’s affections, leading to sweet words of love and promise and physical closeness. 

“Such a sweet song my bird,” Nathaniel crowed gently when Jaskier finished playing the harp he had been gifted that day. The man took the instrument from Jaskier and pulled the bard into his lap, seemingly not noticing Jaskier’s stiffness and panic. “I’m so lucky to have found you, no other man has known such love as what I feel for you.” A kiss was pressed to Jaskier’s neck and Nathaniel took Jaskier’s whine as a happy noise, hating the man’s lips where he had loved Geralt’s. “You’re so loved.”

But all it took to swing the rope the wrong way was a frustrated retort or mention of the situation they were in. And Jaskier, being Jaskier, struggled endlessly to keep his mouth shut.

“Nathaniel,” Jaskier had said one night, tired and sad. “You can’t just keep me here.” 

The man had gone from thoughtfully feeding Jaskier his dessert to throwing the plates across the room. “You will stay here!” He had screamed over and over again. “You will stay with me!” And the bruises of his hands on Jaskier’s wrists and neck took days to leave, even though Nathaniel's mood had switched back to sweet affection almost as fast as it had changed to aggression. “My apologies, my dearest. Forgive me. It seems I don’t know my temper. Please, let’s continue.” And Jaskier had finished his meal and the sweet wine Nathaniel served with every meal with shaking hands. 

Days bled into weeks of being Nathaniel’s captive. The castle was always clean and airy, despite no people being around to tidy and no windows open. Everyday they would eat together, the food appearing before Jaskier arrived for the meals and disappearing when he wasn’t looking and between eating Nathaniel would have things for them to do together. Some days they spent time lounging in the library, the shelves always stocked of whatever Jaskier wished to read about and paper and pencils available no matter how many Jaskier used. Some days Jaskier worked in the greenhouse, more to have a different environment than any real inspiration to have a green thumb, taking out his frustration by digging ruthlessly into the ground and feeling satisfied by the neat rows of plants that began to appear and his pots of herbs brimming over, all growing at a rate Jaskier was sure was unnatural, but didn’t know enough to be certain. He gained a ridiculous amount of gratification by growing rosemary and heather and a single bush of dogwood, muttering furiously to himself as he tended to these plants.

And everyday Nathaniel would ask Jaskier to perform. 

On some nights after dinner, music would appear from no where and Nathaniel would request Jaskier to sing along, no matter if it was his own song or someone else’s and the captor would be even more delighted when Jaskier didn’t know the song and would instead improvise his own lyrics on the spot. Some days Nathaniel took Jaskier into the music room and let the bard play with all the instruments - he was skilled in more than just the lute, though that was always what he was drawn to through the days. But Jaskier could play simple things on the flutes, harps, pipes, horns and bells and he couldn’t help but enjoy being able to discover some new instruments, analysing them and gently working them till tunes began to flow. Any pride Jaskier felt at mastering these new instruments would be dashed by Nathaniel’s constant praise, making Jaskier’s newly found skill feel tainted. When Jaskier played a song that Nathaniel especially liked, it would be a continuous request.

“Again, my little bird? Please?”

Once Nathaniel asked for the same song over and over, so much that Jaskier’s fingers became red raw from his playing. When Jaskier finally refused to repeat the song, Nathaniel looked angry and Jaskier flinched, but was surprised when his captor spotted his sore hands and moved to cup them in his own.

“Oh my poor darling. Such dedication you have.” He kissed each finger, healing the redness and leaving the digits tingling. Jaskier wondered why his bruises had been left to heal. 

It was endlessly tiring for Jaskier to try and guess how Nathaniel would react to things; there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for his moods and there were times were Jaskier almost grew dizzy by how quick Nathaniel would switch and flip. Some days he was happy to follow Jaskier around like a lost puppy, watching the bard read or garden or play for hours with a dreamy look on his face. Some days he would leave Jaskier alone for hours, seeming not to care that Jaskier spent the whole day wondering the castle desperate and unable to find an opening to the outside world, or barely acknowledge him as they pottered around in the same room. Some days nothing Jaskier did was right and he would be too much or not enough, yanked continuously by the magically appearing chain, starved of his meal or thrown across the room by a blast of magic. After these outbursts, Jaskier would either be ignored while the warlock pouted stubbornly or he would be apologised to and coddled - and Jaskier didn’t have to accept the apology for Nathaniel to think all was right again, apparently just Nathaniel saying the words was enough to satisfy himself. 

Jaskier tried to be calming and obedient but that was not in his nature so he found himself snapping at Nathaniel - some times being laughed at and called adorable and sometimes being smacked around the face - or making snide comments as a response - mostly met with delighted comments of his wit - or running his mouth about his adventures with Geralt without thinking.

These always made Nathaniel’s face darken. 

One time Jaskier dared to start playing a song about Geralt and a mermaid stuck in a body of water, as Nathaniel asked for a lighthearted tune and the song included several hilarious mentions of Geralt chasing the creature in the lake, the mermaid delightfully letting Geralt get close just to splash the Witcher and then swim out of reach or darting past Geralt and tugging at his hair and clothes. Jaskier remembered how he had howled with laughter when Gerald caught the mermaid, only to be slapped in the face by her fins and be forced to let go. The creature had eventually allowed Geralt to remove her from the lake to a river, releasing the lake back to the village people and the mermaid to find her way back to her family. Jaskier loved to play the song, and the mermaid had been delighted when Jaskier said he would be recording the battle in music, chattering about the possible lyrics as a socked and scowling Geralt had carried her from the lake to the river sling over his shoulder and long tail wrapping around his waist for her to hold her fins up to stop them trailing on the dirty ground, Jaskier walking behind the pair to talk to the creature. 

He had played this many times at Kaer Morhen while there and it had always lit Eskel and Lambert up, the two singing happily along with Ciri as they laughed and teased Geralt mercilessly.

Nathaniel was less pleased by Jaskier’s song choice and with a clench of his fist had the golden chain pulling tight, yanking Jaskier fully down and slamming his wrist to the ground, making him drop the lute he had been using. Keeping Jaskier pinned there, Nathaniel knelt in front of him and frowned at the silver talisman on the bracelet before stroking his face lightly, either ignoring or not seeing the resentful look Jaskier was giving him.

“I’m sorry, my darling bird. I know you are still enchanted by the Witcher and I don’t blame you for seeking comfort - but you must forget him. Once you do, you’ll accept our love and life together so much easier. And it hurts me so for you to sing of him, so please, no more.” His hands that had been cupping Jaskier’s face so gently tightened, nails digging into his cheeks. “No more.”

-

About a month in to his captivity, Jaskier found Nathaniel pushing boundaries more and more; at the start, the man had been happy to shower Jaskier in love and have nothing in return. But lately he was touching Jaskier more and more, pulling Jaskier to sit closer to him, asking the bard to feed him as he did to him.

And Jaskier would occasionally wake up to find Nathaniel sleeping by his side, startling him out of bed the first few times but as the habit grew in occurrence, Jaskier simply learned to sense when Nathaniel was in his bed and would curl away as much as he dared without waking the man, wishing more than anything to be back in Geralt’s less plush but infinitely more safe bed,

In all honesty, Jaskier was a bit surprised the man had been so patient and undemanding for returned affection but he hadn’t kicked the gift horse in the mouth and had played along as much as possible. He had been expecting this shift and had already planned ways to control it as much as possible. If he gave into little things Nathaniel wouldn’t push for the bigger steps and by choosing his battles Jaskier could nudge certain boundaries. 

Nathaniel has been kissing Jaskier’s cheek goodnight for a week in a row, and pressing the kiss to the edge of Jaskier’s lips for the last two nights of that but when Jaskier stepped forwards and kissed Nathaniel’s cheek goodnight instead, the man had been stunned. And clearly elated by this progress as he stopped forcing the kiss goodnight and was instead happy for Jaskier to make the move. 

When they read together on the library’s sofa, Nathaniel had been pulling Jaskier closer and closer, pressing him to the side of his body and curling his arms around Jaskier waist. But when Jaskier instead began tucking his feet onto Nathaniel’s lap the man was so happy with the apparent change of Jaskier that he was content to lay a hand on Jaskier’s ankles while they sat. 

They were small wins in Jaskier’s favour, but wins none the less and have Jaskier some semblance of control. 

Having grown suspicious of Nathaniel’s story of his family and the sudden appearance of his power, Jaskier used the library’s ability to give him what he wanted to his advantage - searching the shelves for Nathaniel’s family tree gave him a slim book he wanted but not the answers.

The page of Nathaniel’s parents and younger sisters had been torn out of this copy.

A knot of unease was growing in Jaskier’s stomach, so he utilised an affection to Nathaniel that he had been saving.

“My dear,” he called as he finished watering his plants one afternoon and turned to Nathaniel with a smile. The term of endearment made Nathaniel’s eyes go wide and his mouth drop open slightly. “May I ask you a question?”

For a moment, Nathaniel’s mouth moved uselessly. “Of-of course, my love! Anything.”

Jaskier stepped closer to the man as he cleaned his hands with a rag. “I have to admit I’ve been concerned, you spend so much time with me but I worry for your estate and family. And then I began to wonder.” He brushed imaginary dirt from Nathaniel’s shoulder, pretending not to notice as the man’s breath hitched. “Will you tell me what happened?” He asked softly. 

“Something tells me you already know.”

Jaskier hummed. “One can make educated guesses.” He looked up under his eyelashes at Nathaniel to see the man staring at him in wonder. “I’d rather hear the actual story from you, dear one.”

The last two words made Nathaniel’s eyes shine in adoration and secured Jaskier’s imploration. 

Nathaniel led Jaskier by the hand to the study and sat them down so close on the loveseat that their thighs were pressed together.

“As I’ve told you before, my father was the only one who indulged my love for music and art and, as the only son, my mother hated that he allowed me to go study at Oxenfurt. She was adamant that I should be at home learning skills to take over the estate and couldn’t understand why my father was not worried about the future of the family.” The warlock sighed dramatically and took Jaskier’s hand. “I suppose I should have been more concerned myself. It turns out that just before I was born, my mothers sister gave birth to a baby boy as well. A baby boy that was not her husbands but my fathers.”

“You weren’t the heir.” Jaskier filled in, boring his tongue from quipping how the story was unfolding like a dramatic ballad or poem.

“I was not. And my father knew this and never planned for me to take over, had already written his will to give the estate to his true heir, my brother-slash-cousin. But alas, his heir was in he carriage with him when it fell off the cliff and his will had mysteriously disappeared so I was called home and expected to take over.” He paused. “Of course this only came to light after I had signed the papers to take over and my mother demanded that I cut off ties to her sister. We argued, as I felt my aunt was owed part of our fortune and then more secrets came out. The deaths of my father and his son were her doing, completely orchestrated after she found his will and discovered what had happened. All to keep herself comfortable and in power.”

Somehow, Jaskier made himself stay quiet, worried that if he spoke he would break the sad spell that had come over Nathaniel. 

“I was looking for ways out of being head of the household without loosing my money when I found the spell tucked into a book and though the summoning was complicated, it was an easy decision to be honest.”

“You sold yourself for your power.”

Nathaniel waved a hand. “The deal is that when I die, this demon gets my soul. But the way out of this isn’t difficult, my love! I simply won’t die!” He grinned wildly, gloom forgotten. “So many warlocks fall due to their lust and eagerness for more and more recognition and power over their fellow men but I was careful with my gifts and applied them in summoning more demons to make more deals.”

“You have more than one soul to sell?” The words slipped out of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop them but as he tensed, Nathaniel did nothing but laugh and tap the side of his nose.

“In a way.” He said, releasing his tightening grip on Jaskier’s hand to trail it up the bards arm. “A few potions to sway the minds and a spell of two of manipulation and people will sell their souls for your use.”

Jaskier swallowed, his skin cold where Nathaniel was tracing his arm. “Your mother?”

Nathaniel tilted his head. “And her sister. And my sisters. Each offered themselves so easily and with each one I gained immense power and abilities. The only catch being that these souls were demanded immediately in exchange.”

“You killed them.” Jaskier wasn’t sure if his voice was strong enough to carry across the small space between him and Nathaniel.

“But look what I’ve gained in return!” The man answered, not noticing how upset Jaskier was. “Such a small sacrifice and look at what I live in now. I have money, power beyond belief and you, my darling, I have you! And I have my immortality.” Jaskier’s head shot up to stare at him. “I’m not invincible, of course, but age will not kill me and since I have you, my hearts only desire, I have no reason to tempt fate and risk myself in the outside world. We can stay here, safe and tucked away forever.”

Jaskier swallowed. “Nathaniel- my dear,” he corrected himself, “those potions and spells of control... you’d never... I mean, on me...?”

Nathaniel gasped and shifted to clutch at Jaskier’s hands. “Oh my love! No, no, I swear I haven’t used any of those on you - they don’t work on feelings and I know that your feelings for me will be real someday. You’ll wake up one morning and realise the Witcher was nothing but an infatuation and then you’ll fall in love with me as much as I am with you. I can wait.”

Pleased with himself, Nathaniel pulled Jaskier closer and curled around him, pressing his face to Jaskier’s neck and leaning his weight happily onto the bard. 

“Thank you for listening, my little bird.”

Jaskier nodded back said nothing, words caught in his throat as he stared over Nathaniel’s shoulder.

It seemed Jaskier would be stuck in this castle till he died, or made a mistake that got himself killed.

-

Jaskier awoke one morning to yet another beautiful day and more birds singing happily. He frowned at the window, wondering how the weather could be so good for weeks on end. Careful of the sleeping man curled behind him, Jaskier wiggled out of the bed without jostling the mattress or blankets too much, a skill he has honed over his many years of wooing people across the lands. He looked down at Nathaniel, his face peaceful and young and lamented, not for the first time, how similar their backgrounds were and yet how much different paths they had taken. Turning to the sunlight streaming in, Jaskier stretched his arms up above his head and stood on his tiptoes to arch his back, letting out a soft sigh which turned into a gasp as his shirt was tugged on. 

Nathaniel smiled up at him as he twisted himself to look over his shoulder at him, suddenly wide awake and keen eyes taking down Jaskier’s body. “Come back to bed.” He murmured, tugging at Jaskier shirt again.

Swallowing, Jaskier turned to face the man fully. “Ah, I thought I would get up early, make you breakfast for once!” But when he tried to step back, Nathaniel’s grip stayed firm.

“Sweet of you, my love.” The man said, sitting up slightly to grab Jaskier’s wrist with his other hand and pull insistently. “But I like to spoil you. Now come to bed.”

“I don’t-“

“Come!” 

At the barked command, and angry curl of Nathaniel’s lips, Jaskier sat down onto the mattress obediently. The warlocks face smoothed again and he smiled. “Thank you,” he cooed, manoeuvring Jaskier to lay back down on his side with Nathaniel curled around his back. “There we are, my bird, how lovely it is to simply bask in your company.”

“You’re almost always in my company.” Jaskier commented back, wincing as Nathaniel tightened the arm curled around his waist and he was hushed. 

For a long while, they stayed like that, Jaskier painfully awake and uncomfortable while Nathaniel pressed tight against the bard and shifted to tangle their legs together under the covers. After what felt like an hour, Jaskier felt Nathaniel stir but instead of the man releasing him, Jaskier tensed as the hand around his waist gently began to stroke down his side. Warm breath huffed on Jaskier’s neck and Jaskier closed his eyes tight as he held his breath and tried to feign sleep. Undeterred, Nathaniel pressed his face firmly into Jaskier’s hair and kissed the back of his neck, humming softly as his hand wandered further from Jaskier’s side with every stroke. 

“N-Nathaniel, wait, my dear.” Jaskier tried, speaking softly, but the man just hummed louder and let his hand paw at Jaskier’s chest. Gently, Jaskier tried to twist away, but Nathaniel’s other hand slipped under his body and held him firm. “I’m not sure-“

Feeling hips press again him from behind, Jaskier could help but flinch as the hand pressing hard and rubbing against his chest slipped downwards, past his stomach and over his hips to press fingertips between his thighs.

Too much for Jaskier to handle, he shoved an elbow back and felt it collide with Nathaniel’s ribs. On reflex, Nathaniel’s hands pulled away to draw up to his injury and Jaskier immediately rolled off the bed, tripping over his feet and landing on his arse as he scrambled away from the bed. 

As he stood, a blast of magic pushed him into the wall and window, the edge of the windows indent pressing into his back painfully. Before Jaskier could do anything but gasp at the shove, a furious warlock was storming towards him. 

“You’ll let that Witcher touch you but not me?!” The man roared, slamming a hand into the window behind Jaskier. “I know he's had you; I know he tainted you in his run down shack of a castle! It kills me knowing he’s had his filthy paws on you, the mutated freak!”

When humans they met on their travels threw names and threats at Geralt, Jaskier would be unable to stop himself from snarling retorts at them or giving them filthy looks. Now he felt the same hot anger flow through him and, somehow, his pinned arms moved from his sides to shove at Nathaniel’s chest. “Don’t call him that!”

Nathaniel pulled away in shock and dropped his hold on Jaskier, who stumbled forwards away from the wall. The two stared at each other, Nathaniel so confused at Jaskier’s outburst that his anger was forgotten and Jaskier’s mind spinning to try and diffuse the situation before Nathaniel lashed out again while taking in the fact that Nathaniel’s magic was not all encompassing.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, Jaskier forced out a sound similar to a sob. “I know this is hard on you, my dear.” He said, and watched Nathaniel practically melt out of the corner of his eye. “But it’s hard on me too. I’m trying.”

The warlock made an almost whimper sound as he closed the gap between them in two steps. “Oh my love! My love, I’m sorry. Please. It’s alright now. See? It’s all alright.” He wrapped his arms around Jaskier who grit his teeth together. “You need time, I understand. We have all the time in the world.”

-

“Geralt, if you don’t stop growling I’m going to actually stab you.”

Triss and Vesemir shared an amused look as Geralt’s growl grew louder, before cutting off with a hiss. 

“Yen!” Ciri gasped, dashing across the room to Geralt’s side and using her sleeve to press against the cut Yennefer had made on the Witchers arm. “You hurt him!”

Yennefer smiled down at the girl. “Always follow through with your threats, my little one.” She advised. 

Seeing Ciri’s pout, Geralt let her clean up the cut from Yennefer’s dagger and curled a hand around her head, pulling her close to press their foreheads together and so he could breathe in her scent. “It’s alright, cub.” He turned to Yennefer. “Anything?”

Sighing, Yennefer shook her head and looked sadly down at the fallen look on Geralt’s face as he sat in the chair in front of her. More than two months Jaskier had been gone and they were still no closer to finding him, no matter what location spell they used. 

“Where the fuck is he.” It wasn’t a question and no one in room could answer it. Yennefer and Triss has arrived as soon as the letter of Jaskier’s disappearance had reached them, using a portal to bring them to Kaer Morhen’s gates as the ice began to defrost. Two weeks later and no sign of finding the bard, Eskel and Lambert has headed down the mountain earlier than normal, ready to put feelers out for the missing man. Meanwhile, those who stayed in the school worked daily on new spells and options to find how Jaskier had been snatched and where to.

The two witches had quickly realised that both Jaskier and where he was being kept must be hidden away with magic and not a small amount of it. Triss began searching for magic build ups but with nowhere to start it was a long process of casting a spell on a small area of map and waiting for the results to show. A crystal was scrying endlessly for Jaskier’s talisman, floating above a map and waving gently of its own accord. Vesemir had recently found a spell which used a mind focused on the missing person or object to tap in and see the lost ones surroundings.

But now that had failed too.

Geralt sighed heavily and stood up. The last letters form his brothers gave no news and Geralt wasn’t sure how long he could stay in the school and be useless - he couldn’t search the way the witches were, but he could search the land physically. And he would scour the entire land by foot if needed.

“Maybe we should have something to eat.” Vesemir suggested, aware of how taxing the constant use of magic was on the witches. “Come back and have Triss try this spell instead.”

With a nod and a grunt, Geralt conceded and turned to the door, only to be stopped by Ciri gasping and grabbing at his sleeve.

“Geralt!” She whispered, pointing at the crystal.

Whereas the crystal had spend the last few months swaying in a circle over the map, rolling in an apparently random weave again and again, it was suddenly still and tilted erect, pointed tip touching the map and the cord wrapped around the other end almost vibrating from the intensity of the magic.

Yennefer rushed over and hovered her hands over the map and crystal. The room paused as she concentrated and held its breath as she shot a grin over her shoulder.

“Got him.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m super glad I got to this chapter bc this is what I wanted to write! This creepy, horrid situation that Jaskier is in and the way he has to try and cope and work around it.
> 
> I actually re-did a bunch of this bc I felt Jaskier was quite OOC in how careful and quiet he was being? I feel like I haven’t done his chatty and speak-first-think-later sassy wit very well so far in this story.
> 
> I also didn’t want this story to have lots of detailed sex bits? Like, I wanted it to be more about the actual plot (rather my usual...) but I’m thinking I may add an extra chapter of some deleted scenes ;) if it’s wanted of course!
> 
> Finally.... do not be tempted to feel bad for Nathaniel - the boy is batshit crazy


	5. There’s a second wind coming

When Jaskier stretched up for the next book, focusing on healing and protection potions in order to get a suitable book to start on, Nathaniel slipped up be hind him to press the length of his body against Jaskier’s back. Jaskier struggled not to flinch forwards and away from the man, trapped between the warlock and the bookcase, clenching his teeth as Nathaniel curled an arm around his waist and set his chin onto Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“I have a present for you, my love.”

Jaskier turned his head slightly to smile tightly back at the man pressed against him. “Another? I feel you will turn me into more of a spoilt brat than I already am if you continue this way.”

Nathaniel laughed, pressing a cool kiss to Jaskier’s neck. “That doesn’t dissuade me.” He murmured into Jaskier’s skin, nuzzling there and making the bard shiver. “I started this gift when you first arrived; I feel it is a good time for you to have it.” Finally he stepped back, giving Jaskier enough room to turn to face him and bring his armful of books up to his chest as a shield. “I’ll be a few minutes.” He moved forwards and Jaskier tilted his head slightly to allow to the kiss to be pressed to the corner of his mouth.

Watching Nathaniel walk away, Jaskier stayed still till the man had walked out the room and turned the corner in the hall before sighing heavily, his shoulders sagging in relief. Turning, Jaskier took down the book his had been looking for and debated on whether to get a book about relaxation salves while he was looking up healing items. A blue book caught his eye and it was, of course, a book on helpful salves and creams . Rolling his eyes at how easy it was to find things compared to Oxenfurt’s library, Jaskier opened the book to flick through the contents - suddenly tensing when he felt a pair of eyes on him.

Keeping his eyes on the book, Jaskier mentally shook himself. Nathaniel did this sometimes, stood in the room when Jaskier thought he was alone just to watch him, seemingly content to follow Jaskier as he pottered around whatever room they were in. It set Jaskier on edge more than he wanted to admit but whenever he mentioned this habit, Nathaniel would smile and say something about how lovely Jaskier was to watch. But if Nathaniel was watching from afar, he wasn’t touching, so Jaskier was happy to deal with the lesser of two evils. 

“Jaskier.”

At the familiar voice, the one he had been longing for and dreaming of since he had first woken up in that damned plush bed, Jaskier spun around, dropping his pile of books to the stone floor as he took in his Witcher standing in the doorway of the library; a tall, dark and handsome figure in the soft light filtering between the library and hallway.

Geralt was armed to the teeth, both swords already drawn and ready, gleaming dangerously in the setting sunlight, daggers, bombs and potions strapped not only to his waist but right thigh too, a crossbow hanging from his belt and a set of bolts attached to his left thigh. Clearly the hunter had come ready for a fight but judging by the variety of weapons, he wasn’t sure what he was taking down - not that that had ever stopped Geralt before.

“Geralt.” Jaskier breathed, watching as the overwhelmed face of the Witcher fell into a soft look full of hope and relief, unlike Jaskier had ever seen in Geralt. The man took a step forward but something made Jaskier raise a hand to stop him. “How? No, no, don’t tell me, I shouldn’t know.” Could Nathaniel read his mind? “Is it actually you? Are you real? No. Maybe don’t answer that either, I don’t think my heart can take either answer.”

A fondness filled Geralt’s gold eyes. “I never thought I would say I missed your rambling but fuck is it good to hear it.”

Jaskier felt heat behind his eyes and a heaviness in his throat. “Oh it is you.”

Geralt took another step towards Jaskier but was stopped again when a voice called down the hall. “My love? I heard a bang, are you alright?”

Seeing the snarl on Geralt’s face before the sound came out, Jaskier darted forwards and grabbed the Witcher by the arm, yanking hard and physically pulling the man into the library, unworried about the silver blade Geralt was holding. Geralt let himself be manhandled, Jaskier knew he wouldn’t stand a chance of moving him if he didn’t want to be moved, but he frowned at the bard. 

“Let me-“

“No!” Jaskier hissed furiously, dragging Geralt to the furthest bookcase and pushing the man behind it, hiding him from the view of the main reading chairs. “He’s a warlock, Geralt-“

An almost cruel and smug smile grew on Geralt’s face. “He’s human.”

“He’s _powerful_.” Jaskier shoved gently at Geralt’s chest, stepping away with a painful wrench of his heart. Despite holding a sword in each hand, Geralt lifted a hand to follow Jaskier’s retreating form. “And immortal, I think. Fuck. Just trust me.”

Gold eyes bore into Jaskier’s own blue ones and Jaskier stubbornly spent precious seconds holding the Witchers gaze till Geralt nodded his head. Relieved, Jaskier forced himself to turn away from the man and practically threw himself across the room and to the floor to collect the books he had dropped, begging his hands to stop shaking as he fumbled and dropped one poor volume twice more.

Still on the floor when well shined boots appeared in the doorway not a moment later, Jaskier looked up to smile brightly at Nathaniel as he blinked down at the bard, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I wondered what that noise was.”

“I’m sorry, I think I overestimated how many books I could carry... I’ll admit I was already flicking through one when I dropped them.” Laughing a bit too loud, Jaskier was relieved when Nathaniel smiled softly down at him and bent to grab a book from the floor while keeping his other behind his back. 

“You should be more careful, my bird.”

“Sorry.” Jaskier said quickly, on reflex, and then winced in worry of Geralt hearing the reaction in his voice and smell as his body half expected an outburst from Nathaniel. “I know they’re probably expensive.”

Putting the book on the table and then reaching down to help Jaskier up, Nathaniel shook his head. “So long as you’re not hurt, nothing else matters.” Once Jaskier was standing and the books piled on the table, something must have shown in Jaskier’s face as a concerned crease appeared on Nathaniel’s forehead, a frown pulling at his beautiful face. “Is everything alright?”

To Jaskier’s alarm, the man moved around him to step deeper into the room and while peering around, forgot to move his hidden item from behind his back as he moved away from Jaskier. 

“Lavender!” The bard blurted out. 

Nathaniel stopped and turned to face Jaskier, slurping his face. He looked down at the potted plant in his hands and smiled ruefully. “Ah, my surprise!” Chuckling at himself, Nathaniel stepped closer to Jaskier again, who relaxed as their positions had now changed so Jaskier was facing into the room and Geralt’s hiding spot and Nathaniel was facing towards the door, his back to the bookcases. Nathaniel presented the flowering plant to Jaskier. “You mentioned when I drew you your first bath on arriving here that lavender oils and soaps made you relaxed. This plant was taken from one of the most famous lavender fields which is used exclusively for royalty. I’ve been growing it and treating it with magic - it will always stay at the perfect stage for picking and using. At first I thought you would only use it for bathing products but since you’ve shown such an interest in potions, I could show you how to incorporate the lavender into those as well.”

Jaskier beamed painfully sunnily to the warlock, taking the pot gently and setting it on the table to be safe with his books. “How thoughtful! It would be lovely to work on something together.”

His face soft, Nathaniel brushed the back of his fingers across Jaskier’s cheek. “I’m so happy you’ve become taken by my passion; I can’t wait to share my love of magic with you.” He leant in and pressed a lingering kiss to Jaskier’s cheek, moving his lips down to trail another to his jaw. 

A sound of something shifting on the stone floor made them both freeze, Nathaniel pulling away from Jaksier with a confused look.

“W-what is it, my dear?” Jaskier said quickly, berating himself as he stumbled on the first word.

Nathaniel half turned away, frowning. “I thought-“

Desperate to keep the warlocks attention on him, Jaskier darted forwards to close the gap between them again, grabbing the man’s shoulders to forced him to turn back to Jaskier and then pressing his lips to Nathaniel’s in a hard kiss while squeezing his eyes shut tightly. 

He felt Nathaniel pause and falter in his arms but he determinedly pressed himself closer to the man, curling his arms around the warlocks neck and pulling their bodies together. Nathaniel’s arms hesitated before winding around Jaskier’s waist and then the man sunk into the embrace, slipping his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth and moaning softly in happiness. The warlock pulled back to blink at Jaskier who kept his arms tight around the man’s neck. 

“Well, what was that for?”

Jaksier tried to look shy and fluttered his eyelashes slightly - a trick that would never have worked on Geralt but was a well established move when dealing with lords and nobles.

“I just- you remembered the lavender thing. I guess its made me realise that you really do love me.”

With such a happy and hopeful look coming over Nathaniel’s face, Jaskier almost felt a pinch of guilt at the manipulation. “Oh my darling,” the man breathed. “I love you more than anything. It delights me to know you are coming to accept your place by my side.”

Nathaniel’s hands tightened around him and then the warlock kissed him desperately, hungrily. Jaskier let him lick into his mouth for a few long moments before he opened one eye hesitantly. Seeing Nathaniel’s eyes closed, Jaskier looked beyond the warlock and into the room, trying to keep his head and face still. A pair of gleaming golden eyes caught his as Geralt peered his head around a different bookcase than Jaskier had put him behind, something Jaskier was sure Geralt was wanting to happen as it was unlikely Jaskier would be able to find the Witcher if he didn’t want to be found. Geralt’s face was full of emotion as he watched Jaksier and Nathaniel kiss, his body tense and radiating unhappiness. Carefully, Jaskier shifted one hand to curl into Nathaniel’s hair, keeping the man’s neck bared where he wanted it, while the other slipped off the warlock’s shoulders to crook a finger at Geralt to motion the Witcher closer. A slow understanding nod was returned and Jaskier sighed theatrically as he watched Geralt come out from behind the bookcase and creep slowly and silently towards the pair. 

The careful placement on Geralt’s feet gave no noise as he moved across the room, sword poised, and some Witcher talent stopping any sound coming from his dangling items or heavy armour. The stalking Witcher slowed to a stop at what he deemed the perfect position, close enough to strike but far enough not to give himself away, his eyes narrowed in on the unguarded neck of the warlock and his muscles tensed as he gripped his silver sword and prepared his attack.

Jaskier tried to keep his heart and breath under control, his body fighting against his command to stay still rather than shake in nervousness and desperation. His eyes flicked to Nathaniel’s face and, to his horror, brown eyes fluttered open as he did so.

Emotions passed over Nathaniel’s face in a flurry, but Jaskier watched them all as if in slow motion: happiness, bemusement, confusion, suspicion, calculation, realisation, hurt, anger.

So much anger.

Jaskier found himself flying across the room before he realised that Nathaniel had thrown him bodily away from his hold on Jaskier’s hips. Jaskier hit the floor hard and went sliding, stopping and frantically sitting up just in time to see that Nathaniel had turned and bought up a hand once Jaskier was out of the way and had an invisible shield fighting against the sword Geralt had been bringing up into an arch. For a long moment the two stayed in a frozen lock, pushing at each other, then Nathaniel’s other hand rose and a blast of magic threw Geralt back, the Witcher slamming into a bookcase which wobbled dangerously. Geralt managed to keep his feet under him as he fell to the floor, books raining around him as the case settled, his booted feet hitting the floor and his knees bending to soften the impact. He was immediately straightening, face curling into an angry snarl at the warlock who now stood between Geralt and Jaskier. 

“How dare you!” Nathaniel hissed at the Witcher. “How dare you come here and taint our home with your presence! Get out!”

“Fucking make me!”

Nathaniel let out an angry yell, his hand shooting forwards and a ball of light flew towards Geralt who dove out of the way, the ball hitting the bookcase and exploding in a shower of wood splinters and crisp pages which fluttered down uselessly to the ground. Again Geralt stayed on his feet and this time when he righted himself, he didn’t straighten up but instead lunged forwards, feigning left but then swinging right with his steel sword. Nathaniel moved and bought his hands but but wasn’t quite quick enough and ended up with a long slice up his arm, the sword tearing through his clothes and skin easily. With an angry yell, the man’s eyes glowed and with a wave of his hand the sword went flying out of Geralt’s hands and imbedded itself into the wall. 

Geralt ducked back away from the warlock, watching the man’s hands carefully. “Let the bard go.” He growled.

Nathaniel’s face was scrunched up as he pulled at his torn sleeve, blood dripping from the scratch which was long but didn’t look deep. “Jaskier is happy here,” he shot at Geralt, sounding like a petulant child, “I love him.”

“You delusional son a bitch!”

Wincing, Jaskier got up from the ground and sighed heavily, bringing the men’s attention to him. In his head, a quip came forward about two men fighting over him but he managed to resist the retort, feeling too tired to antagonise anyone. “Nathaniel,” he started, voice soft. “I can’t stay here. You say you love me - let me _live_. Let me leave.”

Nathaniel had turned his head to look at him over his shoulder. He looked hurt but shook his head stubbornly. “No! You will be happy eventually, you will love me!” He reached out a hand to Jaskier and clenched the fist tight. A familiar tightening around his wrist was all the warning Jaskier had before the chain appeared from the ground and pulled hard, yanking Jaskier back to the ground forcefully and slamming his wrist against the cold floor in its hurry to bring Jaskier to his knees. 

At Jaskier’s involuntary whimper, Geralt growled lowly and gripped his silver sword tightly, pulling a dagger from his belt. Nathaniel’s attention went back to the Witcher and he glared at the man.

“This is all your fault! We were settling! He had stopped defying me! Now you show up and he’s back tracked!” The weather outside became clouded. “You can’t have him - he’s mine! Mine!”

“He’s not a fucking object!” Geralt snapped at him. “He’s his own person and you can’t just decide you own him and keep him locked away.”

The statement was finished by Geralt throwing the dagger and pulling out a second, throwing this and then pulling a third.

The warlock threw his hands up to send the daggers flying away from him, one dagger going to the left and slamming into a picture on the wall, the other spinning to the right and lodging itself into the ground a mere few inches from where Jaskier’s foot was braced on the floor as he fruitlessly pulled at the chain that pinned him down. The bard let out a yelp at the close call but was ignored as Nathaniel stepped forwards and sent another ball of light at Geralt, who threw himself to the side in avoidance, dropping his third dagger in haste. The ball slammed into the window and Jaksier finally saw the glass damaged as the resulting explosion smashed half the window and created cracks on the surrounding wall. Geralt kept moving once he landed, darting towards a wall and swinging his sword, cutting a rope that ran taut up the stone, Jaskier watched in surprise as the rope loosened quickly and the chandelier above where Nathaniel now stood. The warlock cried out and flinched, raising his hands instinctively and creating a shield around himself. When the chandelier hit it, the wood and metal exploded, splinters and shards fanning out at speed. Jaskier curled around himself to protect his face and felt the rubble smack against him, firm and hot, but not dangerous. It practically bounced off Geralt’s armour and the Witcher took the moments distraction to snatch a potion from his belt and uncork it, taking a single swallow from the bottle before having to drop the remainder when Nathaniel motioned towards him and the rug from under Geralt’s feet was pulled away. Geralt grunted as he hit the floor and then again when a large shard of glass from the shattered window flew itself across the room, slicing into his side as he rolled away from the attack. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier cried as he watched the man yank the sharp piece out of his side, the half-taken potion taking some effect and the Witcher’s face twisting into a furious snarl, skin pale and eyes black with dark veins bleeding across his handsome face. Jaskier was used to the affects of the poisons, knew that Geralt disliked to take them when humans might see him and cry or swear at his appearance - it had taken the Witcher weeks to let Jaskier see the results of the potions and months before he would allow Jaskier to get close to him while the potion was in his system. Even once they were sleeping together, Geralt always hesitated before letting Jaskier bathe and touch him while in the aftermath of the potions and was always surprised at the soft, unbothered and tender touches Jaskier bestowed upon him. Now, Nathaniel visibly recoiled at the sight but not in fear like most people did, instead he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Now you look even more the mutated monster we all know you are,” the man sneered at him, “how you ever managed to trick my beautiful Jaskier into touching you is beyond me.”

Flushing angrily, Jaskier opened his mouth to retort on Geralt’s behalf but the Witcher beat him to the punch, grinning.

“And yet even now Jaskier will choose me over you.”

A fury of power built around Nathaniel like a tornado, wind whipping around the room and rain beginning to pour outside, a bookcase tore from its place and flew towards Geralt, the Witcher dropping his sword and turning to brace both arms up as the heavy wood slammed into him. He managed to keep himself up, grunting as he planted his feet firm and pushed back against the bookcase and not seeing the table flying at his back.

“Behind you!” Jaskier yelled, then yelled as Nathaniel’s glowing glare shot to him, a chair skidding across the floor and smacking Jaskier across the head as it went past him, the bard unable to avoid the attack with his hand pinned to the floor.

Geralt didn’t turn in time and the table made a horrid noise as it hit the Witchers unprotected back, enough of a distraction to make Geralt’s feet slip and then the Witcher was fleeing across the room and slamming into a wall as the bookcase won the fight, the man sliding down the wall and crumpling to the floor to his knees. 

Shaking himself, Geralt got up and surprised Nathaniel by lunging and slamming into the warlock with his body, sending the two of them tumbling to the stone floor. A gleam of light glinting off the blade alerted Nathaniel to the dagger as Geralt spun it in his hand to slam it into Nathaniel’s throat and the man just twitched his fingers in time to make Geralt’s aim off, the dagger clanging against the stone next to Nathaniel’s head instead. Geralt growled and tried again, raising his hand but faltering when a rug flew into his face, curling around his head and pulling him bodily off Nathaniel who scrambled up and away from Geralt. The Witcher tore the rug away from his face and it ripped in his bare hands as he threw it aside. A chair came out of nowhere to slam into Geralt’s shoulder just as the Witcher threw a bottle, the bomb missing Nathaniel and instead hitting a wall and making the stone crumble after a deafening explosion and shine of bright light. The chair had enough force behind it to bring Geralt to his knees, the man grunting when the wood splintered over him. 

“Enough!” Nathaniel shouted, motioning wildly with his arm and body trembling. Geralt went to stand up but suddenly grabbed at his abdomen through his armour, groaning in pain. Jaskier pulled uselessly at his chain.

“Geralt?!”

The Witcher opened his mouth and coughed, blood tinged spit red on his face lips. 

“You can’t love him like I love him!” Nathaniel yelled, gentlemanly demeanour a thing of the past. “You’re not capable of love, Witcher, and you don’t deserve it, especially not from someone as amazing as Jaskier.” Panting, Nathaniel straightened and chuckled softly, sounding exhausted. “The mess you’ve made of our home.” He said, looking around with a frown. “I suppose now you’ve found us once we’ll have to move anyway.” 

Geralt hunched over in pain, gasping as he clutched at his stomach. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier called desperately, trying to stand and falling to his knees again as his pinned wrist was tugged painfully. “What’s happening to him?!”

Nathaniel looked to Jaskier and cooed gently. “Oh my love I’m so sorry you had to see all that. Don’t you worry, the Witcher will be dead soon and then you will finally be free of his spell.”

Jaskier shook, yanking at his chain and feeling his wrist ache as he pulled. “No, don’t, Nathaniel please. Geralt!” Anxious and desperate to get to Geralt he jerked his arm hard and rough, crying out when he felt something snap painfully in his wrist. 

The warlock hissed, taking a threatening step towards Jaskier and making Geralt lurch in an attempt to get to him. “You’ve upset me badly, my darling. Don’t think you won’t have to make up for this indiscretion.” He turned towards Geralt and clenched his fist, the Witcher groaning and heaving, bringing up vomit full of blood. Nathaniel wrinkled his nose. 

“Please, I’m begging you. Let him leave alive.” Jaskier asked desperately. 

Nathaniel looked at him incredulously. “So he can find us again? Don’t be daft, my little bird. We’d have to move so often.”

“And I’ll move with you willingly.” Jaskier said quickly.

Geralt shook his head, shifting to his elbows and knees to ease his pain. “Don’t!”

But Nathaniel was raising an eyebrow at the bard. “Go on.”

The pain shooting up from his wrist was not the only thing making Jaskier nauseous. “If you kill him I’ll never forgive you, I’ll never be able to forgot him and I’ll always fight your love.” The threat made Nathaniel frown. “But leave him, let him live and go back to his school and I promise - I swear Nathaniel I won’t fight it anymore, I’ll go with you and I’ll never try to leave.” 

“Jask-“

“I’ll do anything.” Jaskier begged, ignoring Geralt. 

Nathaniel hesitated. “How can I trust you?”

Jaksier laugher humourlessly. “Because I know what you’ve done to me. I know what you’ve been putting in my food and drink.” Nathaniel looked surprised. “And if I am right, then we both know that you saying I have forever to fall in love with you isn’t an exaggeration. Forever is a long time to have me be angry with you.” Geralt looked up, blood falling from his lips and horror dawning on his face. “You’ve made me immortal, Nathaniel, and you know all I’ll have is you eventually.”

Something akin to relief fell across Nathaniel’s face at Jaskier’s confession. “You’re so clever my darling.” He smiled, hopeful. “You’ll stay with me, you’ll never try to leave and you’ll stop fighting my feelings?”

“I’ll be yours, Nathaniel, I swear.” Jaskier swallowed. “Forever.”

Nathaniel breathed out heavily. 

Geralt choked up more blood. “Don’t- Jaskier, don't!” He groaned and gave an aborted snarl at Nathaniel. “You lay one hand- one fucking - I’ll kill you, you bastard!” He was fumbling for his belt but couldn’t work his fingers properly. 

“Trust me, dear heart.” Jaksier said softly, keeping his eyes on Nathaniel. Geralt’s breath hitched and he stopped in his fighting and yells but Nathaniel didn’t notice as he softened visibly. “Shall we seal our deal with a kiss?” He asked the warlock.

The man brightened, eyes sliding to Geralt on the floor. Clearly he couldn’t resist the temptation to throw Jaskier’s willingness and affection in the Witcher’s face. “What a lovely idea.”

Jaskier tugged uselessly at the chain and hissed in pain, but Nathaniel took no notice as he crossed the room as knelt in front of Jaskier, curling his hands around the bards face and stocking his thumb hard across the bruise and gash on his temple from the chair. Jaskier refused to move in.

“Let the Witcher go.”

Huffing and pouting, Nathaniel raised his hand and gestured limply and behind the warlock, Geralt began to gasp in relief, abdomen finally unclenching and muscles relaxing. The Witcher raised his head and reached out, still shaken.

“Wait-“

But with his end of the deal partly held up, Nathaniel wanted his kiss before he sent the Witcher safely on his way home. He tugged Jaskier forwards and pressed his lips to the bards, finally feeling Jaskier give in and releasing the bard from his trap. 

Jaskier kissed Nathaniel back, pressing forwards when he felt his chain disappear and raising his injured hand to touch Nathaniel’s chest. He could feel Nathaniel’s heart through his throbbing skin, could feel to smug smile against his lips as Nathaniel’s tongue slipped into his mouth, could feel the chill of his hands on his face, could feel the radiating satisfaction from the entire of the warlocks body. 

He felt the shock that struck through Nathaniel’s entire body when Jaskier raised the hidden dagger he had snatched from the floor and pushed it hard and smooth in an upward motion between his ribs. 

The warlock pulled away with a gasp, betrayal and pain on his face as he looked down to see the dagger with Jaskier’s hand on the hilt, watching as the bard pulled it out and a whimper left him involuntarily. Blood spurted out after the blade withdrew, Jaskier’s aim cutting straight into his heart, and stained both sets in the men’s clothes.

Jaskier felt hot tears pool into his eyes as Nathaniel patting dumbly at his chest, unable to focus to heal. “I’m sorry.” Jaskier said. _‘I don’t love you’_ is what he thought but he couldn’t bring himself to say it, worried the anger it would cause would spark life into the warlock. “I don’t do well being caged.”

Nathaniel opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, his hold on Jaskier’s face loosening and his fingers becoming weak. The man slumped to the side, releasing the bard and Jaksier sat back on his heels to watch the warlock stop breathing. Then Jaskier pressed his uninjured hand to his eyes hard and tried to stop the sobs from breaking out of his throat.

-

Long silent minutes passed, the still air broken by Geralt’s panting and Jaskier’s hitching breathes. When a shuffling sound echoed through the room, Jaksier looked up, eyes feeling red and sore. Geralt was standing, breathing hard and face and chest covered in blood but alive, so very alive, his exertion of whatever Nathaniel had been doing to his abdomen causing his half-potion to begin steadily wearing off, the colour seeping into his face and his eyes shining gold as they stared at Jaskier with longing and love. 

Jaskier scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he threw himself across the room at the same time that Geralt moved forwards with open arms; the Witcher caught Jaksier around the middle as the bards knees tried to give in under him, lifting the man bodily from the floor and pulling him into the safe enclosure of his arms. Jaskier’s legs wound around Geralt’s waist and he wrapped his arms around the Witchers neck, pressing his face into the man’s hair to breath in the smokey smell of home. Dimly he registered that Geralt had wrapped his arms around the bards back as the Witcher sunk to the ground, kneeling and clutching Jaskier to himself, nuzzling his face into the missed man’s neck and breathing in through his mouth to taste his scent. Jaskier thought he couldn’t be close to enough to Geralt even if he was able to crawl into the man and merge them into one being, but he tried anyway, wiggling himself into Geralt’s lap to try and press them closer together. 

Jaksier only realised he was crying when Geralt began to hush him gently, stroking his back and making Jaskier clutch him harder as he sobbed into Geralt’s shoulder, all the months of emotions and pain flooding out of him.

“I missed you so much,” the bard said between hitches. “I don’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Geralt rumbled in his chest, a deep purr meant to soothe. “I thought of you every minute of every day.” He confessed. “I would have spent the rest of my life searching for you. I never would have given up.” Jaskier cried harder and Geralt rocked them gently, shifting a hand up to cup the back of Jaskier’s head. “I’m so sorry it took so long, dear heart.”

Jaskier sniffled. “Just take me home, take me away from here.”

One hand releasing Jaskier made the bard whine but Geralt grabbed at a crystal swinging from his hip and smashed it to the ground, immediately curling his arm back around Jaksier and holding him almost too firmly for a human. A few short moments passed and then a bright glow swirled behind them, a portal opening and a very well armed Eskel stepping through the glowing doorway. The Witcher paused and blinked, taking in the pair on the floor, the dead body across the room and the state of the library.

“Well, that’s a mess,” Jaskier laughed breathlessly into Geralt’s shoulder. “That the guy?”

“Yes.” Jaskier said softly and Geralt hushed him.

“He dead?” Geralt grunted in confirmation. “You guys alright?” Another grunt, this one less sure. Eskel nodded in the affirmation of someone who was used to Geralt’s non-answers, opening his mouth and stopping when Lambert stuck his head through the portal with Yennefer. 

The witch clicked her tongue at the two on the ground while Lambert whistled lowly. 

“The fuck did you do to this place?” He said, pulling back into the portal. “They’re fine, they’re cuddling.” His voice echoed as he disappeared.

Eskel rolled his eyes and moved forwards to allow Yennefer room to step out, the two striding to Geralt and Jaskier as the two men untangled themselves and accepted the help to stand up. Geralt winced and pressed a hand to his stomach as his brother hauled him up, Eskel’s hands hovering to steady him but went unneeded. The Witcher instead began to gather Geralt’s weapons unasked. Jaskier was unsteady on his feet so Yennefer took his uninjured arm and pulled it around her shoulders, curling an arm around his waist to support his weight with hidden strength. Her eyes glowed as she looked over him, concern and anger filling her face as she no doubt took in the injuries and that had been magically healed and those that had not.

“Bard-“

“Don’t.” He said sharply. “Not yet. Can we just leave, please?”

She pursed her lips but nodded and forced him to walk to the portal without waiting for Geralt and Eskel. The light of the magic doorway hurt Jaskier’s eyes, he had to close them as he stepped though and was delighted when they stepped in to the softly lit dining hall of Kaer Morhen, the smell of fire and hay a welcome familiarity, as were the people waiting for their return.

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried as they stepped through, running towards them and stopped short before she barrelled into the man when Yennefer held up a hand. The young girl danced from foot to foot as she stood in front of Jaskier, tears tracking down her face and eyes red and swollen. Jaskier removed himself from Yennefer and pulled the girl to him, digging his able hand into her soft hair and sighing heavily as she cried into his chest, so unbelievably happy to hold her close. She didn’t even let go of him when Geralt stepped through the portal with Eskel, the Witcher immediately searching Jaskier out and shoulders slumping when he found him with Ciri. The portal shut behind them, leaving the horridly beautiful castle to itself and Jaskier reached out with his injured arm to Geralt. 

The Witcher moved to them without hesitation, curling an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder to pull the bards head to his shoulder, letting Jaskier press his face to his neck, and his other hand landing on Ciri’s head. Geralt’s nose buried into Jaskier’s hair and he closed his eyes, truly at ease for the first time since he had first laid eyes on the letters. 

“Ew, how domestic.” Lambert snarked, Triss smacked his arm before clutching her hands to her chest in happiness.

Both Geralt and Ciri flipped the Witcher off without looking and Jaskier laughed.

-

Jaskier’s suspicion of Nathaniel’s spiked drink and food had been confirmed but that was the least of the immediate concerns, although the longest lasting (Jaskier had cracked this joke to the room at last but only Lambert has laughed which didn’t really help the situation). Triss’ magic rolled over Jaskier and a list of injuries scribbled it’s way onto a piece of paper, Geralt growling under his breath at it as Vesemir stitched up his side. 

Most of Jaskier’s injuries had been healed somewhat but it turned out that Nathaniel had never done a perfect job at this and so Triss and Yennefer worked out a series of potions for Jaskier to take and heal his body properly. His wrist was an easy fix, it turned out, but he would have to rest it for several days after the initial fixing to ensure correct healing and no lasting issues. Normally this may have been an issue but Jaskier was so painfully tired that he fell asleep at every offered moment, curled constantly against Geralt’s chest and soothed by the slow beating of his heart. He surprised himself but not waking up in distress every morning, instead found himself upset and cringing away from Geralt only rarely, his body somehow knowing the difference between Geralt and Nathaniel even when unconscious. 

While healing and laying in bed, Jaskier was tempted into telling the details of his capture and holding. He knew he did nothing wrong, of course not and no one would blame him for anything, not if they didn’t want a lite smashed over their head, but he still hesitated and winced over certain stories and details, aware of Geralt’s tight hold on his hand and the pain radiating from the Witcher.

Jaskier felt no better after the story was out, upset and tired of the sad and guilty looks around him. 

He and Geralt eventually talked it out, Geralt just as emotional at Jaskier but better at holding it in and not lashing out for once.

Jaskier felt so much better after that conversation, feeling safe in being able to show his anger and pain and having Geralt agree with him while trusting the Witcher to comfort him when demanded. 

In turn Jaskier found out that the crystal found him when Nathaniel’s spell slipped - the only time Jaskier could put to this was when Jaskier had broken free of his hold and had shoved the warlock. But with the hiding and protection spells so strong, portals to the castle were difficult and dangerous. The plan has actually been for Geralt find Jaskier and smash the crystal to call forth another portal for them to run away into, this way they wouldn’t be fighting a powerful warlock on his own grounds. But, like so many of Geralt’s plans, a snag was hit.

Once allowed out of the healing bed, Jaskier settled happily back into Geralt’s room, spending days with Ciri, Triss and Yennefer training while watching the Witchers, the evenings with the lot of them, eating and drinking happily. The mornings were indulgent and lazy, he and Geralt staying curled together under furs and blankets in their own safe, enclosed world.

-

Around three weeks later Geralt, Jaskier, Yennefer and Ciri stepped out of a portal that led them from Kaer Morhen to Oxenfurt. The swirl of magic led them to an alley to not draw attention to themselves but even from the dimmed area the air was warm and fragrant - a summer fair was in full swing, the music, chatter and laughter ringing out and the smell of warm crowds and cooking meats hitting the four of them full force. Ciri skipper happily to the front of the alley, the three adults trailing behind and watching the princess brighten at the sight of the stalls and entertainers. The heat and light were a sharp contrast to the cool soft environment of Kaer Morhen, especially since Lambert and Eskel has left a week before, Triss and Vesemir staying behind in the school to complete from research they had become engrossed in after they had finished healing Jaskier.

For a moment, Jaskier was overwhelmed - the crowds were full of strangers and their intentions unknown, the loud music and heavy smells dulling his senses. He took a breath and relaxed, this was his home before it had been tainted by Nathaniel and Jaskier refused to let it be taken from him. As the bard stepped out into the bright sun of the square, an inn keep across the path spotted him and waved, Jaskier recognised him from many a night played in his bar and waved back. 

Ciri was already chatting about what she was seeing, face bright and happy, tugging on Geralt’s hand. The plan had actually been for Geralt and Jaksier to head to the university for Jaskier to meet with the professor that had commissioned his paper, and for Yennefer and Ciri to stay at an inn till Geralt was happy with the safety of the town. Yennefer hadn’t been pleased with the plan, but she hadn’t argued too much, clearly choosing her battles with Geralt. Seeing the town he had spent so many years of his life, a bright and happy swirl of music and people... Jaksier made a decision.

“Yennefer, would you like to see the Oxenfurt university library?” Geralt’s head snapped round to stare at Jaskier. “Geralt would never use his signs to make people let him through to the grounds but I have feeling you won’t mind swaying them. We can meet my professor, you can see if there’s anything of interest for you, and Geralt and Ciri can book us some rooms and then look through the market.”

Geralt looked like he was going to object but Ciri’s squeal of delight distracted him and he smiled down at the girl, squeezing her hand. Yennefer smirked, giving Jaskier a side look.

“What a fine idea.” She purred, stepping forward to brush Ciri’s hair back and press a kiss to her forehead.

The girl looked up at her. “You’ll look after Jaskier?” 

“Hey!”

“If I must.” She sighed, winking at Ciri. Jaskier bent to kiss Ciri’s nose and pull her ear.

“Rude.” He teased and laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him. 

Geralt looked torn. “We’ll meet you at the university gates - don’t leave their grounds till you see us.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes but didn’t speak out; of she wanted to leave the university, with or without Jaskier, she damn well would, not that she felt partially comfortable with leaving the bard alone but that was no ones business but her own. She had spent far too much time and energy in tracking Jaskier down and helping him heal just to let him get into trouble again. 

Smiling and feeling happy with his idea, even if Geralt didn’t seem too enthused, Jaskier stepped close to the Witcher and let out a sound like a trill when the man closed the gap and curled his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, the bard happily wrapping his own around the firm muscular waist and delighting in Geralt’s display of affection and carelessness of who saw. Geralt leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s neck, the bard letting out a happy breath at the soft touch. 

“For once, just be safe.”

Jaskier laughed. They would spend a week or so lingering in Oxenfurt and by the time they left for a griffin hunt, Jaskier would be almost done with a soft song based on those words, his newest epic and dramatic song about a caged bird that he had finished in Kaer Morhen and announced in Oxenfurt already making its way around the land with high reviews. Several delightful and happy tunes where already half formed about some of the other Witchers, much to their delight and Geralt’s badly hidden sulking. His inspiration was on a roll, making up for how little he had been able to work before Nathaniel had stolen him from Kaer Morhen and Jaskier was pouring out lyrics and tunes at a rate he could barely contain.

Healing, safe and loved, the looming consequences of the warlock’s actions could wait as for now, Jaskier was too happy to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the scene where Jaskier launches himself into Geralt’s arms and they just cling for a bit? That’s what started this whole thing.
> 
> All done, my dear hearts! I hope you’ve enjoyed my attempt at a more serious story! I’ve had such a lovely lovely reviews that have actually legit bought a tear to my eye and had me dancing and squealing across the room.
> 
> If people are amenable, I think I will do a sort of ‘extra’ chapter? Maybe some NSFW bits and snippets of scenes of Jaskier and Nathaniel and some of Geralt looking for Jask? 
> 
> I hope the ending is satisfying for you all! Ohgoddontbedisappointed

**Author's Note:**

> I planned to have this all written out before posting but I’m loosing steam a bit! Hoping that by posting the first part I will give myself a kick up the ass. 
> 
> Not beta read so please forgive (and point out!) my mistakes <3


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